On the Wrong Side of the Mirror
by OdyFreesin
Summary: FBI Agent Norman Jayden is sent to tackle the case of the Origami Killer, but can he do it while dealing with the ghosts from his past? Rated T for language and drug use Thoughts are indicated by italics, I'd love some feedback!
1. Chapter 1

It was mahogany, or he thought so, it could have been sanded plywood, stained, buffed, polished, and painted to look like mahogany. It didn't make a difference to him what his desk was made of, but he was sure it had always been mahogany. Why did it look so different now? He glanced beyond the shimmer of the wood to the figure sitting opposite him. Sun rushed in through the window and glistened off her pale, creamy skin. He wondered for a moment if she was real. He thought, maybe he should ask her, should clear his throat and ask her if she was real. What then? A furrowed brow? An accusing sidewards glance? A flash of her golden, yellow eyes narrowing under the proposition of such a thing? But the sunlight made her look so different. It was as if her skin was made of heavy cream and was swirling around in peaceful waves; a smooth, pure, white ocean.

He couldn't stand it any longer. "Katie?" his voice seemed to echo, as if he was calling through a tunnel to her. She turned her head toward him, seeming to move in slow motion. Her eyes glowed, as if there were a fire behind them. She raised her eyebrows, an indication that she was listening, but he couldn't find the words he was looking for. He just wanted to stare at her. She looked like a Van Gogh painting. Finally he blinked heavily and cleared his throat. "Are you real?"

She grimaced, and the fire went out from behind her eyes. They weren't golden anymore, but a dull, murky yellow. "I don't know," she said sincerely. She ran her delicate, thin hand through her hair. Her skin had since cease to swirl and was flat and pasty again. He also noticed that the sunlight had been covered up by heavy clouds, either that, or someone had drawn the blinds in their office. He couldn't tell, his eyes were locked on her. She reached her hand across the desk and slipped her fingers in between his. They were like ice; it was almost painful to touch her. "What's happened to us, Norman?"

He didn't have anything to say. He just gripped her hand once he noticed he was back in the real world, back in the closet they were forced to call an office. The blinds had been drawn, so there was never any sunlight at all.

_It had seemed so real…_

Now it was cold, and dark, and Katie looked the way she had looked the past three weeks. Tired, thin, and delicate; a shadow of the woman he knew to be his partner. "We used to be…" she trailed off in sheer exhaustion. "We used to be so good, you and me."

He knew what she meant. He felt the pain the same way she did, suffered the same agony, was lost in the same alternate reality, with no idea which side of the mirror was the side everyone else existed on. He just wished he could do something to save her. Anything…

"It just feels like nothing's real anymore," she sighed. "I walk to my apartment in the evening and it's like I'm existing behind a veil, like everything is foggy. Like _this world here_ isn't the real world." She turned her sad, tired eyes his way. "Do you ever feel that way?"

Of course he felt that way. He'd felt that way all the time. That was, until he found a cure. At first it was fine, glorious. It lifted the fog and made everything sharper, made the real world seem more real. But after awhile… well, after a while it got dangerous. "Sometimes," he said. Maybe he should tell her, maybe it would save her. She stood up from her chair and went to the window, peeking through the blinds.

"Can I tell you a secret, Jayden?" she asked, barely above a whisper. He nodded and she must have felt it because she sighed heavily and prepared herself to speak, a feat that required most of her energy nowadays. She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a pair of black sunglasses, she held them delicately, as if they were going to grow fangs and bite her. "ARI," she began. "I think ARI is doing this to me… to us… making us so sick… the headaches, the hallucinations…" She fiddled with her pair of glasses, they seemed so much smaller and ladylike than the pair in his suit pocket. She turned away from the window and made eye contact so intense that he felt the need to look away for a second or two. "The thing I can't figure out is this: Why would they give them to us, if they knew they were so harmful?"

_I don't know Katie, I just don't know…_

Her sadness quickly sparked into anger like a firecracker and she threw the glasses down on the desk. "I think as federal agents we deserve to have a little fucking discretion thrown our way!" she collapsed into her chair and looked near tears. "Why? Why would they do this to us? We're not lab rats, Jayden, we're human beings…" she set her head down on the desk and sniffled loudly. He was sure she was crying. It put him in physical pain to see her this way. He got up from his chair and managed to make his way over to her side of the desk. He knelt beside her and carefully placed his hands on her frail shoulders, afraid that she might shatter.

"Katie," he said. "Katie, please…" He was about to beg her to pull herself together when her sobs became audible. He pulled her chair towards him and reached his arms around her, she nestled her face into his neck and wept warm tears onto his skin. It was almost comforting to feel something so warm…

"My head, Norman… the migraines, I just can't take it anymore!" and she wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to breathe easy. He stroked her hair for a moment, then she sat back up, hastily wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry," she began. "You'd like to think I have a little more self control than that…"

Something wasn't right. No, something was terribly, horribly wrong. Norman felt a bolt of white hot lighting shoot through his entire body as he stared at his partner. Beneath her sunken eyes, where the remnants of saline tears should have been, there was blood. The world seemed to slow to half speed and he pulled out his collar and examined it. It was soaked through with blood, instead of tears.

_Oh, Katie, oh no…_

Upon seeing the started look on his face, Katie pulled her fingers away to examine the warm liquid. Blood. It was blood. She locked eyes with Norman. At first, she looked startled, as if in a state of disbelief, then she blinked and a fine, thin stream of red rolled down her cheek. Her face went void of emotion, her eyes cold and dark. He noticed she was falling, slipping right out of her chair.

"Katie!" he yelled her name in a panic and grabbed her, hoping to brace her fall. She collapsed into his arms, completely weightless…

Norman Jayden sat bolt upright in bed, desperately trying to catch his breath. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he was gasping for air. He felt a panic attack looming. He placed a shaking, pale hand on his chest, trying to steady his frantic breathing, but it was to no avail. He'd started to shake all over, as if the temperature in his apartment had dropped to 30 below. He felt himself reaching for his nightstand drawer. He'd kicked into autopilot as he searched for the cold sensation of a glass vial against his skin. Once it met his fingertips he hastily pulled out the stopper and inhaled deeply, feeling the fluorescent blue powder coat the inside of his nose and drip down the back of his throat.

His body braced itself for a feeling it knew all too well, his muscles contracted in anticipation. It hit his brain almost immediately, like a bullet, and his muscles released their vice like grip. He carefully rested his head against the wall behind him and enjoyed the feeling of euphoria creeping its way up his veins. He sighed softly as order was restored to his world and his breathing returned to normal. He rolled over on his side in bed and tried to focus on the high, instead of what had awakened him.

_Another dream, another nightmare about Katie…_

He'd been having them every night since she died. Every night since he held her in his arms and watched her slip away. Watched her life slip right through his fingers, and he was completely powerless to save her. It had been nearly a week, and when advised by his supervisor to take leave, he obliged, but after several days of a depression he couldn't escape he went back to work, hoping that it would keep his mind off of what had happened. It wasn't doing a great job.

All he could think about was the look on her face when it happened. The desperation, the sheer desperation in her blood filled eyes, as if she was calling out to him to save her. There was nothing he could do but scream for help. And when her younger sister stopped to speak with him at her funeral she looked him straight in the eye, she'd had the same yellow eyes as Katie, and asked him if she'd suffered. He flinched at the thought of her sobbing about unbearable headaches, and told her no.

_What else was I supposed to tell her?_

Jayden shoved his face into the comforter and left it there for a second, breathing in and out. Once the fabric of the comforter had become slightly moist with what he assumed was sweat, he sat up again and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It read 2:47 a.m. Norman sighed and turned the clock away from him, hiding the time from his eyes. He'd never get back to sleep now. He gingerly rubbed his temples, still feeling lightheaded from the drugs. They helped him relax, but very few things could lull him to sleep nowadays. He stood up slowly, trying to get over the shock of the cold wood floor on his bare feet.

He slowly walked out of his bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. The massive bay windows on the 22nd floor overlooked an always busy street below. He managed his way over to them and pressed his forehead against the cold glass, he swore he heard it sizzle against the heat of his skin. He opened his tired eyes and felt suddenly dizzy at the sight of the cityscape below. The lights of the cars on the road beneath him seemed to be glowing straight into this apartment.

_Doesn't this town ever sleep?_

Norman stepped back and drew the shades. He walked to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee maker. He wasn't sure if he'd drink any, but he just wanted to hear it brew, wanted to smell the aroma and let it permeate his small living space. Once upon a time, coffee solved all his problems, now it was just another stimulant that couldn't even begin to scrape the surface of the icy feeling in his veins.

He was supposed to leave in the morning for a case in Pennsylvania. It was a case he and Katie had been following in their free time, a series of child kidnappings and murders committed by a character the press dubbed the Origami Killer. The police station had demonstrated enough ineptitude to get the Feds called in on the case. He and Katie were supposed to go as a team, as partners, and aid the police station since the badges in charge had made virtually no progress in the three years the killer had been on the loose.

_She was so excited to go, she just wanted to dig her nails into that case…_

Norman blinked hard. They gratefully accepted the case, but little did they know, she'd be dead less than a week later. Now he was going into this without his partner of five years and he couldn't be more terrified. His supervisor had stopped him after the funeral and suggested that he turn the case over to another agent and just rest for awhile. Norman declined the offer, insisting that he could perform his job fine, and that it was too late notice to change the paperwork anyway. He was right, his supervisor knew it, and gave him to go ahead to proceed. Aside from paperwork, which Norman couldn't care less about, he really needed to get away from the headquarters for awhile. There was a lot of unfavorable talk going around the office about the appropriateness of the relationship between him and his late partner. The thought was enough to make him go running for the vial in his nightstand again.

_I need to be careful… I never know if my next hit will be my last_

Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee and drank it black, waiting for morning to come.


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining when Norman arrived at the police station. He didn't mind rain when he was sitting in his car, listening to it slap against the windshield. He liked the rhythmic, calming effect the sound of the wipers had on him. He even liked the sound the tires made when he drove through a puddle. It reminded him of when he was a kid, riding his bike through puddles that seemed to be a mile long in Boston. The car just felt like a safe place to be when it rained, like the travelling version of a warm bed. Norman would nearly relish in it if his thoughts hadn't been broken by the realization that he'd have to get out of the car eventually and walk in the rain, which he despised.

The simple passing thought of trudging through the rain to the front doors of the police station made his mood sour exceptionally.

_I hate the fucking rain, it's cold, it's wet, and it's un-fucking-comfortable…_

He shut off the car and reached into his suit pocket, checking for the sensation of the glass vial against his fingertips. Just knowing it was there helped take the edge off. He got out of the car, slamming the door hard behind him, as if the childish outburst of anger would make it stop raining. Of course it didn't, and he walked to the front doors in the rain.

The station was so brightly lit that he felt his eyes dilate at the sudden shock. He squinted for a minute. Nobody seemed to look too busy, a few cops were throwing paper airplanes to each other, and others were gathered around a vending machine. Phones were ringing but nobody seemed to want to bother themselves with answering them.

_Who was I supposed to ask for? Some Lieutenant… Carter Blake?_

Norman walked up to a desk he assumed to be the reception. The woman didn't look up from the book she was reading. "Uh, excuse me?" Norman asked trying to sound as little irritated as possible.

She looked up at him and slowly closed her book. "How can I help you, sir?" she asked pleasantly.

"I'm Agent Norman Jayden from the FBI, I'm supposed to meet with Lieutenant Carter Blake," he said while extending his hand for a shake.

The woman looked surprised at the offer and shook his hand. "Well Agent Jayden, you just missed Lt. Blake, he was called out on a crime scene. I'm sure you could touch base with him there." She scribbled down an address and some brief directions on a sticky note and gingerly passed it his way.

_Are you kidding, lady? I have to go back out in the rain?_

Norman bit his tongue and took the paper. "Thanks…"

The crime scene wasn't too far from the police station and Norman found it with ease. The streets were clearly labeled and the traffic was minimal. He parked his car a ways from the flashing lights of an ambulance and an abundance of cop cars. The rain seemed to have gotten heavier in the 10 minutes between the station and crime scene. He was about to begrudgingly get out of the car when he felt it.

It started as a slow tingle at the base of his skull, an almost internal itch sprouting from his brain. His hands began to shake and his eyes ached. He could feel the tingle travel down his spine, a slow creeping vibrato that made his entire body shudder. His vision blurred and the ache that had started in his eyes was now attacking his brain. A wave of nausea crashed over him.

_Triptocaine withdrawal… I can't handle this right now. I need to take some, just a little, just enough to keep my head straight…_

He reached inside his coat pocket and slipped his fingers around the small glass vial filled with the fluorescent blue powder. The Tripto had him locked up in a prison where it was the relentless warden and he was the single, solitary inmate. It was highly addictive, and all it took was a few whiffs of its incredible power to get him shamelessly hooked.

He held the vial up so he could examine it.

_I don't need it…_

The pain that snuck its way into his brain started to pound on his temples and knocked on the back of his eyes. He blinked hard, the pain was unrelenting.

_Maybe just a little, only enough to get rid of the pain…_

He began to unstopper the vial when something stopped him, a voice, a memory from deep inside his brain raged to the surface.

_"You don't need this stuff Norman! You never know when this shit is going to fucking kill you, it's a narcotic for god's sake!"_

Katie was right. In his dream he hadn't told her about the Tripto, but in real life, in the real world version of what happened to her, he'd begged her to take it. He promised her it would help with the migraines, the hallucinations, and the never ending sensation that she was living on the wrong side of reality. But she refused. "I don't get in with hard drugs, Norman, and neither should you. They eat holes in your brain."

_Think of what happened to you, Katie. What would have been the worse fate?_

But his question was answered as swiftly as it ran through his head. He knew for a fact she'd rather be dead than be an addict. He sighed heavily, put the vial back in his pocket, and got out of the car. And into the rain.

_Goddamn rain…_

Mud gushed out from under his shoes as he approached the yellow crime scene tape. He pulled out his badge and flashed it to one of the officers guarding the entrance. "Norman Jayden, FBI. I'm looking for Lt. Carter Blake, is he around?"

"He's somewhere in there," the officer motioned to the wasteland behind him.

"Thanks," Norman retired his badge to his suit jacket and ducked under the tape. There were officers everywhere, trudging around the crime scene, walking right on top of potential evidence. The thought of the damage they were doing made him cringe.

_No wonder they haven't gotten anywhere in this case. They're destroying evidence all over the place!_

He shrugged his dark jacket as close to his body as humanly possible and walked towards a group of officers collecting evidence. "Hey, excuse me? I'm looking for Carter Blake, have you seen him?" None of them bothered to stand up, or even look to see who'd asked the question, they all just pointed in the same general direction. "…Thanks…"

_Real friendly people working in this department…_

He turned away and headed towards the man with dark hair and a goatee they'd all seemed to be indicating. "Lt. Carter Blake?" he asked, while wiping some rainwater from his eyes.

The man turned to him, looking irritated that anyone was asking. "Yeah?"

"I'm Agent Norman Jayden from the FBI. I went to the station this morning and the receptionist told me you'd be here."

"So you're the man the Feds sent down," Blake extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Jayden."

Norman shook his hand, but something about the tone in Blake's voice suggested that he thought it was a lot less than 'nice' to meet him.

"So what happened?" Norman asked.

"As far as we can tell, it looks like the work of the Origami Killer. Rigor mortis places the body at less than six hours old," Blake said flatly.

"Have you identified the body yet?" Norman asked, looking over his shoulder at the white tent in the distance.

"Not yet," Blake cracked his knuckles loudly. "Listen Jayden, I'm really busy, mind if we talk back at the station?" Blake didn't wait for an answer and began to make his way past Norman.

"Not a problem, mind if I have a look around?" Norman asked, while nearly getting shoved out of the way by the impatient Lieutenant.

"Be my guest," Blake turned around. "And kid, if you find anything let me know. We're on the same team now." The statement was accompanied by a wink and smug grin that made the hair stand up on the back of Norman's neck. Something just wasn't right about that guy.

_That putz gives me the creeps…_

Norman reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his sleek, inky black glasses. He looked at them for a minute, after what Katie had said before she died, they'd seemed more foreboding than anything else. But how could he conduct an investigation without them? He couldn't. That was the bottom line, and there was a child killer on the loose, so he'd didn't have a second to spare.

He slipped them on and pulled on the skintight, computer chipped glove that accompanied them. The soft blue glow of the ARI washed over the landscape and Norman felt a sense of calm break over him. It felt right, it felt _better_ than viewing the crime scene through his own eyes. All the information he could ever want was instantly at his disposal.

He approached the white tent and pulled back the opening. ARI identified the body to be that of Jeremy Bowels, who'd gone missing about five days before. In his hand was an origami figure. An orchid lay on his chest.

_It's the Origami Killer's MO that's for sure._

After examining some post mortem wounds on the body Norman left the tent. When he'd first started as an Agent, straight out of the academy, the sight of a dead body made him physically ill. Since then, he'd seen his share and then some. They didn't even make it into his dreams anymore. But it didn't matter how many mangled, deformed corpses he'd locked cold, dead eyes with, nothing was worse than seeing a kid.

He shook his head at the thought and held his hand out in front of him, allowing the computerized glove to make a scan of his surroundings. A trail lit up right in front of him, it was a trail of orchid pollen that seemed to begin on the other side of the wasteland, at the base of a hill by a railroad line.

_Bingo._

Was it possible that the precise, clean killer had left behind a trail he couldn't control? Norman followed it up to a fence separating the hill to the highway, and the wasteland. There was blood on the fence, blood that belonged to Jeremy Bowles. He logged the evidence into ARI and clumsily made his way up the hill. Sliding, and slipping on the muddy ground, he lost his footing a few times and coated the pants of his suit in mud.

Once he made it to the top he grinned at his own accomplishment, staring down at the rather steep hill he'd managed to climb up. He held out his hand and scanned the environment. Foot prints and tire tracks popped up in front of him. He logged the shoe size and tire tread into ARI.

_Could they belong to the killer? It's not much to go on, but at least it's something._

Norman turned around and headed back to the hill. Getting down would be a much bigger feat than climbing up… He turned his foot and attempted to slide down the first hump but stumbled and lost his footing completely. He crashed down the hill, landing at the bottom beside the fence with a hard thud. He quickly sat up and looked around, feeling embarrassment flash across his mud covered cheeks. Luckily no one had seen and he stood up, trying to wipe himself off as much as possible.

_I should get back to the hotel and change before anyone sees me like this_

He crossed the train tracks and headed for the exit of the crime scene.

"Jayden! Hey Jayden!" he heard Blake's voice calling after him. He cringed and turned around. Blake approached him, with another officer at his side, looking more and more amused by the sight of his mud covered suit. Blake stopped and looked him up and down with an air of superiority. He seemed to be stifling a laugh. "I'm going back to the station. Did you find anything?"

"U-uh, just a few things," Norman stuttered, trying to get over the sudden humiliation that was sliding over him. "I'll go over them with you as soon as I get back."

Blake nodded, still examining him. He scoffed and nudged the officer beside him in the ribs. "Let's get outta here, Ash." The two walked past Norman, giving him a wide berth, as if he had an infectious disease. Norman heard Blake sigh loudly. "That's the federal government for you, we've got a child killer on the loose and they send me a kid who just wants to play in the goddamn rain!"

Norman blushed heavily and wiped some mud off his cheeks. He was off his game without Katie. He never went stumbling around crime scenes, falling in mud, and getting openly made fun of by the local law enforcement. This was a nightmare already…

"Don't linger, Norman. The clock's ticking."

The sound of the voice behind him, accompanied by warm breath on the back of his neck, made Norman nearly jump out if his skin. He ripped off the ARI glasses and turned around so quickly that he nearly fell down again. There wasn't anyone there, but the voice had sounded so real, as if it was right there behind him. He had recognized it… he knew who it belonged to. He rubbed his temples. Maybe it had come from ARI, a recording he'd forgotten to delete or something.

_That's not possible. It was _right there_ behind me. She was right there..._

He put ARI back in his suit pocket and left the crime scene as quickly as possible.

~Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, I really appreciate the feedback! Bear with me if characters aren't sounding right, hopefully I'll progress!~


	3. Chapter 3

Norman was back in the police station after a trip back to his hotel room, he'd needed a shower and change of clothes after his muddy (and otherwise embarrassing) escapade at the Origami Killer crime scene. The heat of the shower had helped ease his aching bones but hadn't done anything to calm his mind. What in god's name was Katie's voice doing at the crime scene? Maybe he was really losing it…

He shifted in his chair and tried to forget how _real_ it had sounded. Just like she was there, right behind him, he swore he felt her breath on his neck. He shook his head and started singing the ABC's in his head, for some reason, the nursery school song always pushed everything out of his mind and there were just the letters and tune.

_A B C D, E F G…_

He used the song for a lot of things, to keep his mind from wandering when he was supposed to focus, and at funerals when he didn't want to cry. For some reason, it was soothing. Maybe it was just part of an underlying OCD he refused to get diagnosed. Then again, he'd bet his life on the idea that every single Agent working for the Bureau had some kind of OCD…

He turned his head to the receptionist he'd spoken to earlier. She had her nose stuck in the book again. It was a paperback romance novel with a tan, heavily muscled Fabio type, and a scantily clad woman on the cover in a rather uncomfortable looking embrace. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair again. He was waiting for Captain Perry to get out of a meeting, but his patience was wearing thin.

"Do you know how much longer he's going to be?" he asked loudly, hoping she'd hear him.

She didn't look up from her book. "It shouldn't be too much longer, Agent Jayden," she said, sounding irritated, as if he'd asked the question several times already.

He leaned back in his chair, feeling as if he'd been scolded by a teacher in grade school. He'd already had his share of embarrassment for one day. He sighed heavily, and was tempted to pull out his ARI to pass the time, however when he reached for them he felt a sense of dread wash over him and then linger in his stomach.

A door swung open beside him and a middle aged man with a less than impressive amount of hair left came out. He turned to the receptionist and told her to cancel his appointments for the day. "Oh, Captain Perry, Agent Norman Jayden from the FBI is here. He's been waiting to speak with you," she glanced over at Norman as he stood.

Perry extended his hand and Norman shook it. "We've been expecting you Agent Jayden," he began. "I hear you were a little slow getting back from the crime scene."

Norman felt himself blush but didn't offer an explanation, he was sure that Lt. Blake had already told him the entire story. "I just wanted to introduce myself before I officially joined the investigation, sir."

"I appreciate the courtesy," Perry said. He motioned for Norman to follow him as he headed across the police station. "To be completely honest with you, Jayden, I was surprised that the Bureau decided to send you down without your partner. I was expecting two agents."

Norman cleared his throat. "Agent Drescher passed away last week, Captain."

Perry looked up at him, looking surprised, and slightly shocked. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jayden. Pardon me if this comes off an insensitive, but are you sure you can conduct this investigation to the best of your abilities so soon after the death of you partner?" Perry gave up on tying his tie.

Norman motioned to the tie, "Want me to get that?"

"If you would," Perry smiled faintly.

Norman placed his hands on the tie and knotted it accordingly. "I can assure you Captain, I went through all the proper counseling and received an emotional evaluation following Agent Drescher's death. If my superiors didn't think I was capable they would have sent someone else."

"I'll take your word for it," Perry said while examining the tie. "I'm about to start a press conference, if you'd like to sit in. I'm sure it'll give you an idea of the politics around here. If not, my receptionist can show you to your office." He slapped Norman on the shoulder and headed towards a room swarmed with reporters.

_Fucking politics, I'm not interested in politics when there's a killer on the loose._

He rubbed his eyes and headed towards the press conference despite the ranting of his unenthusiastic inner dialogue. He took a seat in the corner of the room, squinting his eyes against the bright flashes of the journalists' cameras as Perry took the podium.

It was a boring press conference, full of information he already knew. Perry assured the reporters that the Origami Killer would be caught soon, and confirmed that an FBI Agent had been called in to aid the investigation. It seemed like Perry was more concerned with appeasing the press than anything else. Norman let his restlessness get the best of him and he left the room, venturing out into the rest of the station. He scanned the rows of desks thoughtfully. He watched the officers continue to blatantly ignore ringing telephones and engage in aimless conversation. He began heading towards the receptionist's desk when he heard a woman's voice calling from behind him.

"Excuse me. Excuse me, sir?" the voice was clear, but was it real? Norman barely glanced over his shoulder, wondering for a moment if there was going to be anyone standing there. But it wasn't raspy and slightly tinny like Katie's voice. This one was smooth and soft. Over his shoulder he saw a tall woman with short dark hair, and equally dark eyes. He faced her completely as she approached him.

"Can I help you?" he asked, noticing the steno book in her hand and newspaper ID badge hanging around her neck.

_A reporter, great…_

She held up a key ring holding a solitary car key. "You left this at your seat back in the press room. I don't think you want to walk to your hotel in the rain."

He reached out and took it from her fingers, being careful not to touch her skin. He slid it in his pocket. "Thanks," he said. "What makes you think I'll be going back to a hotel room?"

"Your accent," she began. "You're not from around here."

"Nobody moved from Boston to Pennsylvania?" he asked shortly.

She smiled, there was something about the way she smiled that made Norman feel a little at ease. "Well, it's not just the accent. It's also the suit, and the slightly arrogant way you carry yourself," she laughed a little, as if it wasn't meant to be an insult. "Would I be right if I said you're the FBI Agent Captain Perry mentioned?"

He wanted to be mad, and respond with his usual irritated remarks and leave her standing there alone, but something about her demeanor made him stay. "You would be right," he said. He extended his hand to her. "I'm Agent Norman Jayden."

She shook his hand and a puzzled look crept over her face, as if she were racking her brain for something. "Norman Jayden, huh?" she asked abruptly.

"Uh, yeah," Norman rubbed his neck, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze.

She shook her finger at him. "I knew your name sounded familiar," she began. "It was all over the papers last week…" she stopped abruptly, as if she'd barely stopped herself from saying something she didn't want to. "I'm really sorry about what happened to your partner, Agent Jayden. It's just terrible, she was so young."

Norman nodded. "Yeah…" he really wished people would stop bringing it up, he didn't want to think about it anymore, or at least not right now.

"How _does_ something like that happen to a girl her age?" she asked, suddenly taking a professional tone.

_Goddamn reporters, they make you feel comfortable, and less than a minute later they're starting an interview…_

"With all due respect Ms…?"

"Oh, Paige," she said, as if she were embarrassed for failing to introduce herself. "Madison Paige."

"-Ms. Paige, I don't feel like answering a bunch of questions about my deceased partner. We were extremely close, and it's been less than a week since she passed."

She put her hands up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Norman interrupter her, "Have a good day, Ms. Paige." He quickly turned and walked away, feeling frustrated that he'd let himself feel even slightly comfortable enough with a reporter to introduce himself. He was blundering all over the place today.

After the receptionist showed him to his grimy, dusty office Norman took some time to go over the clues he'd found at the Jeremy Bowles crime scene. Once they were pieced together properly he'd show them to Blake, but not before then. The guy already thought he was a waste of oxygen, the last thing he wanted to do was show him disjointed evidence. He had too much pride to risk another mistake.

Once he'd reviewed the evidence he sat back in his chair and admired the autumn leaves falling around him. A forest in the middle of fall was one of ARI's computer generated landscapes, along with the bottom of the ocean, Mars, and a cliff overlooking the jungle. They were so lifelike that sometimes he forgot that he was sitting on a park bench or at the table in his apartment. He could even feel the cool wind on his skin. The beauty of the alternate reality was completely hypnotizing, so much that there were occasions he wanted to take the glasses off and engage in the real world, but he physically couldn't. He breathed in the crisp forest air.

"I told you not to linger, Norman…" the voice that came from about fifteen feet away was unmistakable. Norman swiftly pulled his eyes away from the rustling tree tops and settled on a figure leaning against a tree. His eyes widened in shock as she came into focus. Her arms were crossed and a familiar cynical grin was stretched across her face. The wind blew the hair from her short brown bob away from her face, exposing impossibly yellow eyes.

"Katie?" he asked, barely above a whisper. She winked at him. He blinked hard, and when he opened his eyes she was gone.

_Wha- what the fuck is going on?_

Norman frantically looked around, but he was alone. He slipped off the glasses and rubbed his temples. He hadn't taken any Tripto since he got up that morning, maybe it was just a hallucination that was breaking through. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the vial. He didn't want the hallucinations… especially ones like this. He lifted the vial to his nose and inhaled, allowing his muscles to contract and his brain to settle. He put the vial back in his pocket and rubbed his neck.

A heavy knock at his office door made him jump to his feet. The door swung open, without waiting for a response. It was Ash, Blake's lackey cop buddy from the crime scene. "I see you changed," he said with a hint of ridicule in his voice.

"Who wants to sit around in muddy clothes all day?" Norman asked.

Ash grimaced. "Carter asked me to come get you, he's got a guy in questioning and uh, since you two are partners now, he thought you should be there."

"Oh, okay," Norman straightened his suit and followed Ash out to Blake's desk.

_Blake sure doesn't seem like the kind of guy who wants a partner…_

A man was sitting in the chair opposite Blake's desk. He looked like a seven day drunk, complete with unkempt facial hair, heavy lidded eyes, dirty clothes, and a nervous presence. Blake, however, looked relaxed in his padded office chair. Norman took up residence on the desk beside his.

"This is Agent Norman Jayden from the FBI," Blake said motioning to Norman. "Jayden, this is Ethan Mars, his son went missing this afternoon."

"The FBI?" asked Ethan, clearly distraught. "Do... you don't think it could be the Origami Killer do you?"

"We have to cover all of our bases, Mr. Mars," Blake said, while entering some information into his computer. "So, tell us what happened."

Ethan shifted in his chair. Norman watched him, analyzing his movements, something wasn't right. "Uh, I took Shaun to the park this afternoon and it looked like it was going to rain so we started to head home, but he wanted a ride on the carousel so I went to buy a ticket and… when I turned around he was gone."

"What time was this?" Blake asked.

Ethan shook his head. "I don't know…" he didn't make eye contact, he kept his eyes on his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably in his lap. "Maybe around 4:30 or so?"

Norman checked his wristwatch. It was almost 7:30.

_Oh Jesus… did I really spend that much time in ARI?_

"Why didn't you report it until now?" he asked, shaking his thoughts from his skull.

"I'm sorry?" Ethan seemed taken aback by the inquiry.

"You say he went missing around 4:30, that was three hours ago. Why didn't you report it right away?" he asked.

Ethan's blue eyes darted between Blake and Norman as if he didn't know what to say. "I- I don't know, I was looking for him for awhile, I didn't know what to do."

His body language screamed deception, Norman had studied enough psychology in college to know when someone wasn't telling the truth.

_Why is he lying to us? What are you hiding, Ethan?_

"Well, Mr. Mars, we'll put an APB out on Shaun, hopefully he'll turn up within the next few hours."

"And if he doesn't?" Ethan asked, the terror becoming suddenly visible in his eyes.

Blake stood up and straightened his tie. "Then we have a much bigger problem on our hands. You're free to go, but stay by your phone in case we have any more questions."

Ethan nodded and got up, he turned away and headed towards the exit of the police station.

"Do you think it's the Origami Killer?" Norman asked Blake once Ethan was out of earshot.

"I'm not sure yet, it could be, yet again, it could just be a runaway case or something, I mean, he doesn't exactly look like the world's best dad."

"He seemed pretty distraught to me," Ash interjected from a neighboring desk.

Norman shook his head. "Nah, something wasn't right."

"What do you mean?" Blake asked.

"His body language suggested deception, lack of eye contact, an inability to answer questions directly. Yeah, he seemed genuinely upset that his son went missing but there's something he's not telling us."

Blake snorted. "Whatever you say, Jayden," he picked up his coat and slipped it on. "Listen, I'm outta here, I'm running off a 12 hour shift. But, I'll be in tomorrow around ten or so. We'll go over evidence then."

"No problem," Jayden moved out of the isle, knowing Blake wasn't going to bother walking around him if he happened to be in his way.

~I'm terrible at pacing! This is moving really slow, and I thoroughly apologize for that, I promise I have suspense and original material coming up soon! Thanks again to everyone who read and/or commented, the feedback is super helpful! Once again, if characters aren't sounding right please let me know and I'll do my best to work on solving that problem, this was my first hand at writing Ethan and Madison, so I hope I didn't butcher it too badly!~


	4. Chapter 4

Madison Paige had given up on sleep. Pills were the only solution to her chronic insomnia, but they rarely offered her a few hours of sleep a night if she was lucky. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a full, blissful eight hours. Of course, insomnia made her a better reporter. She could stay up all night researching a topic, or following a lead, but was it worth the perpetual state of exhaustion she was in? She didn't know.

She rubbed her neck as she listened to the sound of rain pattering on the window in her apartment's kitchen. It definitely wasn't worth it, she'd give up her entire career for one week of sleep. But since she didn't expect a genie to pop out of a spare bottle and grant her a wish anytime soon, she decided to focus on her career, and she had something interesting cooking. Earlier in the day she'd attended a press conference concerning the Origami Killer, and much to her surprise, the hard headed Captain Perry confirmed that an FBI Agent had been brought in to aid the case.

The second that slime ball Perry admitted to it, she started scanning the crowd, hoping she could pick out the Fed. She did, with great ease. He stood out like a sore thumb wearing not only a suit and tie, but a perpetual scowl that suggested he was either in deep thought or completely bored to death. She'd pegged her man in less than three minutes. She made her way to the seat beside him and was about to sit down when he stood up, rather abruptly, and left the press room. It was just a fluke that she noticed a car key had slipped out of his pocket and landed on the chair when he stood up.

It was an opportunity she was not about to pass up. She snatched the car key off the fold up chair and went after him. In his gratitude he introduced himself as Agent Norman Jayden. The sound of his name made Madison's blood turn to ice, and she tried to hide her shock, only to have it written all over her face. His name had been plastered in newspaper articles all over the New England area when word got out that his partner had died on duty. The headlines had read: "Promising FBI Agent Dies from Strange Brain Disease"

Madison had been glued to the tragic story. Katie Drescher was only a year older than herself at 28. How does a 28 year old woman, who is presumably in excellent health, die from a brain disease? It was absolutely terrible. And now, the FBI has sent her partner to help catch the most successful child serial killer in New England's history less than a week after she died. Something wasn't right, and chances were, if she got to the bottom of it, she'd have a killer story on her hands.

She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to refresh them, they'd been staring at a computer screen for the past four hours. All she had gathered so far was that Agent Drescher graduated from the FBI Academy at the age of 23, and before that, she served three years as a police officer for the Augusta Police Department in Maine. She'd have to cut through a hell of a lot more red tape to find out anything else. But that's why she had Sam.

She phoned him around noon, asking him to dig up information on Katie Drescher's death. He had yet to disappoint her, in Madison's eyes, there was nothing he couldn't do. So she waited. She got up from the kitchen table and went to the fridge. She wasn't hungry, or thirsty, but she had to do something to pass the time. The days never end when you don't sleep.

She poured herself a glass of milk and sat back down at the table. She didn't care for milk much, but it was the only drinkable thing left in her fridge. She drank most of the glass and laid her head down beside her laptop. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. The sound of her cell phone buzzing on the table beside her head foiled any pathetic attempt she was going to make at sleeping. She picked it up.

"Tell me you've got something, Sam," she said wearily, rubbing her eyes.

"Do I ever disappoint?" he asked, his voice crackling over a bad signal.

"Not yet, but there's a first time for all things," she teased.

He laughed heartily on the other line. "Well, that time has yet to come, Mad. I've got plenty on those agents you asked me about."

"You're my hero," she said, feeling a sense of relief crash over her. She readied herself at the keyboard. "I'm ready, hit me."

"Alright, Special Agent Katie Drescher was born in Eastport, Maine. She was the second born in a family of five girls. Her mother was a crisis counselor, and her father was a lobster fisherman. She used to be an officer for the Augusta PD. She served three years and was offered a detective position but declined when she was accepted to the FBI Academy. She graduated with flying colors and was assigned to the main HQ in Washington DC where she was partnered with Special Agent Norman Jayden. It all sounded pretty text book until I found out they were partners for the entire duration of her service."

"What's wrong with that?" Madison asked.

"FBI Agents aren't like cops, they don't partner for life. There'll be partnerships here and there, or for certain cases, but for the most part, Federal Agents work alone. If they _do_ happen to get a partner, it usually doesn't last long because of transfers, or demands on separate cases."

"So what does that mean for these two?" she asked.

"It means they made one hell of a team, but I'll get into that in a minute," he paused and she could hear him flipping through papers. So far, Sam hadn't told her much she didn't already know. Katie's brief biography had been everywhere since she died.

_Please, Sam, give me something I can use_

"Here we are," Sam began. "Special Agent Norman Jayden was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. His father was an EMT and his mom was a nurse, but she died when he was eight after a battle with breast cancer. He had a younger brother named Daniel, the report says he died, too, but not until he and Norman were both in college. He graduated with his master's degree and went on to graduate from the FBI Academy when he was 23. He was also placed at HQ in Washington DC. Several months into his first year of service he was partnered with Katie Drescher on a white collar money laundering case. They cracked it in record time, and the Bureau decided to keep them together for another case since they seemed to 'intellectually compliment' each other."

Madison finished typing up the information in her word document. "I don't mean to sound harsh Sam, because you _are_ doing me a favor, but this doesn't seem like anything I couldn't find out on my own."

"Patience, grasshopper," Sam replied with a chuckle. "I have plenty more."

_I sure hope so…_

She heard Sam flip through more papers. "By the time their second year of service began, they'd successfully closed every single case they were given."

_Jesus, these two were definitely a force to be reckoned with_

"Sounds like they made quite the team," she said.

"You aren't kidding," Sam laughed. "There wasn't even the slightest blemish on their records until about six months ago."

"What happened?"

"During their mandatory 5 year polygraph screening both Drescher and Jayden showed deception when asked if they had properly followed the FBI code of conduct. An in depth investigation was launched and a misconduct suit was going to be filed against them but was withdrawn after Drescher's unexpected death."

"Damn," Madison began. "What did they do?"

"Well, since the suit was never filed, there's no official allegation but the report says their superiors suspected they were having an affair, and that's deep shit as far as the FBI is concerned. Interoffice relationships are fine, but between partners they're a complete breech of the FBI code of conduct."

"Jesus. And neither of them admitted to whether or not that's what was going on?" Madison asked.

"Not a chance in hell, it would've cost them their jobs for sure," Sam exclaimed. "Especially since trying to lie during a polygraph is a serious offence."

Madison didn't say anything for a few seconds, she just typed the information into her word document.

"Now are you ready for this?" Sam asked.

"Ready for what?" she asked.

"I saved the best for last," Sam said. "Before they got into hot water Drescher and Jayden were accepted to participate in the ARI Project. It was a top secret program that dealt with an experimental way to store files and view evidence. It was a super computer that hooked into the FBI database and was accessed through a pair of ARI glasses and a computer chipped glove. The glasses somehow engaged the agent's brain by emitting electromagnetic waves. It was considered revolutionary and proved to be an extremely useful tool. But after a few months of use, Drescher went to see the HQ physician and complained of migraines and hallucinations. The doc suggested a few extra hours of sleep and less time in ARI. The FBI included her side effects in their report, adding that Jayden hadn't complained of any discomfort. Of course, she died eight months later. And do you wanna know the kicker, Mad?"

"What?"

"I managed to get Agent Drescher's official cause of death," Sam said in a whisper.

_No way. The FBI had guarded her cause of death like Area 51! All the press had managed to dig up was a possible brain injury_

"How did you manage that?" she asked in disbelief.

"Never ask a magician how he performs his tricks," Sam jested. "The official cause of death of Special Agent Katie Drescher, as stated by the coroner, is a series of micro seizures caused by electric waves that literally ate holes in her brain."

"You mean…" Madison paused. "You mean it was the ARI that killed her?"

"That seems to be the most likely cause," Sam said.

"Jesus Christ…" Madison was stunned. "So what's the FBI's reasoning in sending Agent Jayden down her after losing his partner and possible lover?"

"I've got an inside source that says his superiors wanted him out of HQ while they decided whether or not to go on with the misconduct suit," Sam said. "Apparently the poor bastard doesn't have a clue they're thinking of redrawing it. But Mad, you didn't hear any of this from me, right?"

"Right," she said. "Thanks Sam." She hung up the phone and stared at her computer screen. She was the only reporter in the entire tri state area that knew Katie Drescher's cause of death, as well as the scandal attached to her personal life, she _did_ have a killer story on her hands…

Norman sat on the edge of his hotel room bed, rubbing his temples. He knew he was losing his mind. There was no other explanation for the things that were happening to him. It was only his first day on the Origami Killer case and he wasn't sure if he was going to make it. He should've been focusing on the investigation, but all he could think about was Katie.

An affair…

It was such a dirty word. The kind of word that implied he was sleeping with another man's wife. His supervisor had used that exact word: "Listen Norman, I heard all about your failed polygraph, and we've been investigating. I need you to tell me the truth. Is there something going on between you and Katie? Are you having an affair? Because we both know you have an abundant knowledge of the code of conduct…"

The word made him feel so guilty, so dirty. It made him feel like a bad agent, a crooked agent. Of course he knew the policy, but the Bureau encouraged agents to have relationships, to live by each other, and go out for drinks. It was all within policy to attend family barbecues together, and go out to the club, hell he could even take her to the movies and buy her popcorn! That was all okay, it was expected, the Bureau wanted its agents to be close, to have meaningful relationships with each other, but there was a very fine line between friendship and romance. She could be his best friend, but the second he laid his lips on her a line was crossed that he couldn't come back from.

When they first met he couldn't have been any less interested. She wasn't his type, he'd never been into girls with super athletic bodies, he liked a woman with some curves, and her boring bob and raspy voice were anything but sexy. But the more time he spent with her, the more he genuinely liked her. She was sassy, funny, and too smart for her own good. She gave him a run for his money, and she knew her way around a case file like nobody's business. After a few months he couldn't deny that there was a spark between them, but he resisted it, knowing that _both_ of their jobs would be on the line.

They'd been working together for three years before anything happened. They went to his apartment after work to brainstorm about the case they were on and ended up cooking dinner instead. She danced in the kitchen to a techno song that played over a commercial on TV and ended up a little too close to him at the finale. Instead of backing up and apologizing to each other like they normally would, they moved even closer. A thousand thoughts raced through his head in the second they pressed their bodies together but ended in a simple: _you know you love her Norman, do it_

He did. He pressed his lips to hers as softly as he could and felt a tingle race up his spine. When she slipped her arms around his neck and returned with a more intense kiss, he was sold. He forgot about his job, about all the hard work he invested to get where he was. All he could think about was the way her body felt against his.

Things got out of hand pretty fast, and before he could contemplate the consequences, they were ripping each other's clothes off and crashing down on his bed. Her skin was soft and smooth, and she moved her body in all the right ways. The feeling of her nails on his back, and hot breath on his neck were all he needed to think to himself that everything felt right, like it was meant to be. He'd had his share of flings, but this hadn't been anything like that. He'd felt something different with Katie, something special. And when she fell asleep with her head on his bare chest and sighed contentedly he couldn't help but think that the consequences were worth it.

He flinched at the memory and reached into his suit pocket, withdrawing the vial he held so dear. He hadn't just lost his partner. He lost his best friend, his companion, and the woman he was in love with. Norman had tried not to get too close to people, he was used to losing them. He'd let his guard down with Katie, and look where that got him. He was alone again. He took the stopper off of the vial and held it to his nose.

_I can't do this. I have to stop taking this shit, it's gonna kill me_

How many times had that thought run through his head? He always ignored it, always rebutted it with, _I'll quit tomorrow._ He never did. He inhaled deeply and lay down on the bed, letting any thoughts of Katie drift blissfully out of his head. His mind wandered and finally rested on the father that came into the station to report his missing son. What was his name? Ethan Mars? All he could remember was Shaun, the son's name.

_I wonder if he's turned up by now_

He hoped that the kid had just run away, or wandered off. He'd spent some time profiling the killer since he got back to the hotel, and the park Shaun Mars had disappeared from was well within the area the Origami Killer's victims were from. He reached inside his suit pocket and pulled out ARI. He slipped them on.

He cleared his throat as he logged into his files and pulled up the FBI database with the full intention of doing a quick background check on Ethan Mars. The guy just didn't seem right. He was lying to Blake. Norman could barely keep his eyes open, that last hit had made him completely exhausted. He tried to sit up and keep himself awake, but he was just too tired. Instead, he rolled over on his side and stopped fighting the cloud of sleep that was moving in on his brain…

He woke up sometime later to ARI's autumn landscape. He was lying in a pile of leaves somewhere in the forest and his eyes ached. He sat up and looked around, it was daylight in ARI, but what time was it out in the real world? He took a few deep breaths and prepared to stand up when he saw her again.

Katie was sitting on a tree stump not too far away with her legs crossed. Norman reached to pull off the glasses, but stopped when she looked right at him.

"I didn't mean to scare you earlier, Norman," she said. She got up from the tree stump and walked over to him, she took a seat beside him on the ground. He could smell her shampoo… "What are you thinking falling asleep with these things on, don't you know it can be dangerous?" she asked, her voice seemed to float away with the wind.

"I'm sorry," Norman said.

She turned to him and caressed his cheek, he leaned into her hand and shut his eyes, enjoying the sensation. When he felt her hand leave his face he opened his eyes, wondering if she would still be there. She was, and she held up the fingers that had touched him. They were covered in blood. Norman felt his heart skip a beat as he reached under the glasses and wiped his eye. Blood. His finger was covered in blood.

"I told you not to linger," she said. She reached up and pulled his glasses off.

In an instant he was back in his hotel room, alone, and his finger was still covered in blood. It had been real. He felt his heart racing as he quickly stood up from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and gazed into the mirror with a sense of urgency. His cheeks were covered in blood and as he blinked more gushed out of his eyes. He washed his face in the coldest water he could stand and looked back in the mirror, blinking hard. There wasn't any more blood, but his skull was pounding and his eyes were aching. How could he have been so careless with ARI? Maybe he should call his supervisor and let him know what happened, let him know that his eyes were bleeding just like Katie's. But he didn't feel like he could go to his superiors for help anymore, they were angry at him for failing the polygraph, for breaking policy. He was alone in every sense of the word.

~Thanks once again to everyone who read and reviewed (: This was my longest chapter yet because I felt like I wanted to put a lot of back story here, bear with me with the romantic stuff, it's not my favorite part, but it has its place in this story lol I want to do more scenes with Madison, good idea? Bad idea? Let me know what you think, I don't think I have her voice quite right!~


	5. Chapter 5

Rain was beating down hard on the windows outside the news service. It was so loud that Madison could hardly focus. She rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. She'd only managed to fall asleep for about an hour once she got off the phone with Sam, and that hour was full of nightmares.

"Long night, Mad?" a voice asked. Madison looked up from her computer screen. It was Yvonne, the advice columnist that sat in the desk beside her.

"You have no idea," she began. "This insomnia is killing me, I only slept for an hour last night."

"Did you see that specialist I told you about?" Yvonne asked while taking her seat and sipping some coffee out of her over sized mug.

"Not yet, the idea of a sleep clinic kind of creeps me out," she said. The thought of being watched through a two way mirror while she slept made her skin crawl. If she couldn't even manage to fall asleep on her own, how could she fall asleep in a sterile hospital room while she was hooked up to all kinds of brain monitoring machines?

"I think it would do you some good," Yvonne said. "But that's just my opinion, it's not like I give advice for a living or anything." She winked at Madison.

Madison smiled and went back to her computer screen. It was blank. She had all the information she needed to write the piece on Katie Drescher and Norman Jayden, but something was stopping her. Anytime she outlined the article and physically went to write it she couldn't. "Yvonne?"

"Yes?" Yvonne asked, not looking up from her keyboard.

"Let's say, hypothetically, that I have a lead for a pretty salacious story," Madison began. Yvonne turned away from her computer and took notice. "And I have all the facts and statements I need to write it, and it would be a pretty important piece, I mean, it might even make the front page…"

"Go on," Yvonne said, leaning forward.

"But-" Madison paused and rubbed her neck.

"But what?" Yvonne asked.

"But what if it could really ruin someone's career? Really ruin their reputation? I mean, do I have the right to bring it to the public?" Madison asked, breathing a little easier now that her moral dilemma was out in the open.

"Madison, you're a _reporter_, it's what you do, girl," Yvonne said. "Besides, it would do your career good to have a front page article."

"But I just don't know if it's right," Madison argued.

"Can I let you in on a little secret, Mad?" Yvonne gingerly set her coffee mug down on her desk. Madison nodded. "You want to know why you've been working at the paper for over four years and you still get stuck with stupid stories like who won the high school football game?" she didn't wait for an answer. "Because you're too nice. I've seen you pass up lots of leads because you didn't feel like it was honorable to expose someone's life like that. You're not Mother Theresa, Madison, you're a reporter, and in the world of journalism, it pays to be a little cutthroat."

Madison grimaced and leaned forward. When she went into journalism, she swore that she wouldn't let herself become a stereotype. She didn't want to be viewed as that slimy journalist who would do anything to get a lead on a good story. So what? She wanted her work in journalism to be noble, what was wrong with that? Apparently everything. "So you think I should write the article?" she asked.

"What's it about?" Yvonne asked, she had since lost interest and turned back to her computer.

Madison rested her forehead on her palm and sighed heavily. "Does it really matter?" she sighed.

"Of course it does," Yvonne said. "If you found out who assassinated JFK, then you should probably run it."

Madison shot her a disapproving look. "Can you take this seriously?" she pleaded. "I'm in a moral quandary."

"I'm sorry," Yvonne said, but it sounded suspiciously insincere. "Think of it this way," she turned to Madison. "Imagine in your head, the person whose career and reputation would be ruined by you writing this article."

Madison closed her eyes. "Okay…"

"Now, do you feel like they deserve it?" Yvonne asked directly.

Madison was quiet for a few seconds, deep in thought. "No… no they don't."

"Maybe that's your answer."

"Maybe…" Madison leaned back in her chair and closed her page of notes.

Norman stood at the vending machine in the police station. It seemed like he'd fed his dollar in a hundred times already and no matter how hard he tried to smooth it out, the machine simply wouldn't take it. He rubbed his sore eyes and put the dollar back in his wallet.

_So much for that, I probably wouldn't be able to keep down a bag of chips anyway_

Since his episode with ARI the night before he'd been fighting constant nausea not even Triptocaine could cure. His eyes ached, his head ached, hell, even his skin ached. But he had to push that out of his mind, he was here to catch a killer, not deal with his inner demons.

"Hey Jayden!" the sound of Blake's booming voice from across the station made him jump. He turned around and watched as Blake, despite the urgency in his voice, strolled leisurely towards the break room. When he finally reached Norman he cleared his throat loudly. "The Captain's ready for you to present that profile of the killer you were supposed to make, we're all ready in Conference Room B."

"Oh, yeah, okay," Norman reached in his suit pocket and pulled out ARI. Blake sighed impatiently at the sight of the young Agent pulling out sunglasses instead of a file folder.

"Sometime today Jayden," he said.

"It's all right here," Norman said, holding up ARI.

"In your sunglasses? You've gotta be shitting me." Blake was sounding increasingly irritated. "Boy, you FBI guys really are crackpots aren't you? Get some sleep Agent Jayden."

Blake rolled his eyes and went to turn away but Norman stopped him. "They're not just glasses, Lieutenant," he said. "They're called ARI, or Added Reality Interface. It's how I collect and store evidence, it has a projector, so if you're ready to go to the conference room we can get this show on the road."

Blake stared at the glasses with knitted brows. "So you FBI guys get all the best technology then, huh? While the rest of us out in the field doing _real_ police work are stuck with outdated equipment at best?" He scoffed and turned, heading for a conference room.

"Working for the federal government _does_ have its perks, Lieutenant," Norman said following him.

"Whatever kid," Blake snarled, pushing open the door to the conference room. When Norman entered he saw Captain Perry, Ash, and a few other officers affiliated with the case all sitting in fold up chairs, looking extremely lethargic.

"If we could get through this in a timely manner, Jayden, it would be greatly appreciated," Perry said. "I've got to meet with the press."

"Yes sir," Norman said, sliding on ARI and beginning to flick through files to pull up the proper slide show. All the officers in the room exchanged confused glances and Norman heard Blake snort in the corner of the room. When he'd pulled up the right report he took off the glasses and set them gingerly on the table, they projected a bluish glow onto the screen behind him. He flicked his glove and a file on the victims came up. Norman felt his heart rate accelerate, he never liked talking in front of groups. That was always Katie's job, she was more charismatic, and honestly, he suspected she liked being the center of attention.

_I don't even know where to start…_

"Our killer is most likely a white male in his early thirties to mid forties living in the outer metro area, he is employed but has a job that allows him a lot of free time, he may even be self employed. His actions are very calculated, he's no amateur, and I believe he understands how the police work. After geoprofiling the areas the victims were abducted from I was able to isolate a zone where the killer might live since…"

"Who says our man lives anywhere near his victims?" Blake barked. "Ted Bundy lived in Washington State and got caught in Utah, and he'd claimed victims in states as far away as Florida.

"You make a good point Lieutenant, however, you've failed to realize that Ted Bundy only killed women in Washington when he _lived_ in Washington. Then, when he moved to Utah, the killings ended in Washington and began in Salt Lake City."

"Well, how do you explain his murders in Idaho and Colorado? Bundy never lived in either of those places," Ash interjected.

"That's exactly the next point I was going to make," Norman said. "As a killer gets more and more comfortable, they begin to expand their 'comfort zone,' and any kid who took second grade geography knows that Idaho and Colorado both border Utah. As for his killings in Florida, those were out of the ordinary as Bundy had escaped custody and was fleeing from the police."

Blake scowled and folded his arms tightly. "In all honestly Agent Jayden, we're not chasing Ted Bundy."

Norman rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.

_Blake, _you're_ the one who brought up Bundy, you stupid fuck…_

"Please continue Agent Jayden," Perry said rather impatiently.

Norman brought up the next slide. "Another piece of information I uncovered that I found to be very interesting is that our killer only strikes in the fall, during the rainy season…"

"What's your point?" Blake growled.

_If you'd ever let me finish a sentence Blake, you'd get to hear my points!_

"My point is that the victims always turn up between three and six days after they're abducted, and that's quite the range, so I looked into it and found out that the rainfall was always at 6 inches when the victims were discovered." He paused and looked at everyone sitting in the conference room, waiting for them to react. Instead they all stared at him blankly. "The victims are being drowned in rain water," he said. "I've gathered that the killer must have access to some kind of well or vat he places the victims in that's open to the sky."

"Any suspects?" Perry asked.

"I found two men that fit the psychological profile of our killer, they also live inside the comfort zone I established. I'd like to question them."

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Blake yelled. "I can't believe you want to waste our time with this bullshit! There's a killer out there, and we've got to get off our asses and find him!"

Norman had, had just about enough with Blake's micro tantrums, he felt his ears get hot and he couldn't control his anger anymore. "We're not gonna find this guy trolling the streets, Blake! He's not your run of the mill killer, he's methodical, organized, and extremely intelligent! And as far as I can tell he's just having a jolly ol' time fucking with you and your department because he believes that he's smarter than every single one of you! A man like that doesn't walk around town looking suspicious enough to interrogate on a whim!" Norman screamed across the room to Blake with a ferocity he'd never felt before.

Blake stood up and kicked a chair. "You listen to me you son of a bitch!" Norman folded his arms, feeling completely unthreatened by Blake's posturing. "I'm not about to-"

"That's enough Carter!" Perry intervened. "Sit down!"

Blake shot Norman a sharp glance and sat down, trying to hold back a rage that had become visible on his face.

"Agent Jayden has suspects, which is something we haven't had in a long time, Blake," Perry said. "Is that everything?" he asked Norman.

"Yes sir, for now," Norman said quietly. The adrenaline that was coursing through his veins was beginning to wear off.

"Great, now if you'll all excuse me, I have a press conference to attend," Perry straightened his tie and left the conference room. Ash and the officers followed suit until Norman and Blake were alone in the room. Norman picked up ARI and shut it down, eliminating the blue glow from the room. Blake stood up and grabbed him by his lapels. He slammed him against the wall so hard that Norman lost his grip on ARI.

"This isn't over Jayden," Blake said in a whisper. "If you think you can insult me and my department you've got another thing coming." He slammed him against the wall again for good measure and left the conference room. Norman felt his heart racing.

_Jesus Christ! That guy isn't just an asshole, he's a fucking lunatic!_

He bent down and picked up ARI, examining it for scratches. He carefully slipped it into his suit pocket and patted in gingerly. He hands began to shake. He took a few deep breaths, he couldn't take any more Tripto today, he'd already had an entire vial…

~I've been fighting some serious writer's block, so please forgive me if this chapter is less than entertaining. I plan on writing a scene with Ethan sometime soon, hopefully in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed! I really appreciate the reviews I got on my last chapter! I promise my next chapter will be better, and longer~


	6. Chapter 6

The drive to Nathaniel Williams' apartment building had been one of the most uncomfortable of Norman's life. He sat, half squirming in the passenger street while animosity poured off of Blake so violently that Norman could feel its cancerous hands reaching for him. He pushed himself as close to the door as possible, attempting to put room between them. Blake was white knuckling the steering wheel and growling at anyone he decided was driving too slowly. The radio was off and the silence just added to the tense climate in the car. Cars had never been a lucky place for Norman, he always seemed to get trapped in them, forced to face terrible situations with nowhere to run.

When he was eight his dad picked him and his little brother, Daniel, up at school and drove right past the house. When Norman asked where they were going, his dad pulled onto the freeway and told him and Danny that he was dropping them off at their grandma's house, because their mom had just died. Norman had wanted to throw open the door, jump from the car, and run away as far and as fast as he could. But he was trapped, stuck in the car, feeling his nose sting with tears and his heart rate rising. All he could manage to say was, "You told us she was just a little sick, you said she'd be fine!"

"I didn't want you and Danny to worry…"

"What do you mean she's dead?" Daniel's tiny voice had asked. He was only six, too young to really understand, and their father didn't seem to be preparing to explain it.

"Norman, please say something to your brother, I can't do this…"

He'd felt terror rising in his spine, he was only eight, how was he supposed to explain to Daniel that their mom was dead?

Norman's memory was broken by Blake's booming voice. "Does this look like the right place to you, _Norman_?" Blake asked mockingly.

Norman looked up, noticing that they'd pulled up outside the apartment building. He nodded, ignoring Blake's tone.

"Let's get this over with," Blake said, getting out of the car.

A few minutes later they were outside Nathaniel's apartment. Norman knocked on the door. Blake folded his arms and leaned impatiently against the wall. A few seconds ticked by and Norman knocked again. "Mr. Williams?" he asked loudly. There was still no answer, he turned to Blake and shrugged. "I guess he's not home."

Blake impatiently shoved him out of the way and shook his head. "Jesus Christ…" he muttered as he backed up and kicked the door open. "We didn't come all the way down here for nothing, Jayden."

"Blake, you can't just break into someone's place," Norman said urgently.

"What are you gonna do? Call the cops?" Blake laughed at his own joke and entered the apartment.

Norman felt his cheeks get hot. "Blake! Anything we find in there is going to mean nothing in court if you just barge in!"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Who's the court gonna believe? Us, or some crackpot child killer? If that what he turns out to be…"

Norman rubbed his temples. Did he really have a choice? He'd already inferred that it wasn't smart to cross Carter Blake. He sighed and followed Blake into the apartment, leaving the door cracked behind him. A wall of moist heat hit him as soon as he stepped foot into the first room of the apartment.

"Jesus," he said. "It's a damn sauna in here…" He trailed off as he took in the state of the apartment. The walls were covered in crucifixes, not a patch was left bare. The widows were covered and the apartment was only lit slightly by candles scattered here and there around the room. He managed to locate a light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened. "No light bulbs?" he said more to himself than Blake. "He's pretty religious, I take it?"

Blake scoffed. "Pretty religious? Nathaniel Williams is a run of the mill Jesus freak. Last year we arrested this guy for harassing people in the park. He was screaming about the apocalypse or some shit like that, scared a bunch of kids and old ladies, mostly. When he was brought to me for questioning he started having a fit and was ranting about how I was the Antichrist or something. He's a fucking lunatic if you ask me… I'm gonna go look in the bedroom." Blake disappeared into a dark hallway.

Blake was an unbearable asshole, and maybe a bit of a lunatic himself, but he was no Antichrist. Norman turned away to examine the walls, the sight of all the crosses made him shudder. They seemed so menacing, so sinister. He stepped away from the wall, desperately wanting some fresh air. He was heading for the hallway to catch up with Blake when he heard the door creak. He turned around and saw a short, thin man with black eyes holding a paper grocery bag. He looked thoroughly confused.

"Mr. Williams?" he asked, immediately feeling sorry for breaking into his apartment.

"Yes?" the man examined Norman closely, looking at him as though he were seeing his insides. He used to know someone who looked at him that way…

"I'm Special Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI," he said, flashing his badge, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "I just want to ask you a few questions."

"Why?" Nathaniel asked. "I haven't done anything." He gripped the grocery bag to his chest.

"Just let the agent ask his questions, Nathaniel," Blake said, he'd appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Nathaniel's eyes widened at the sound of Blake's voice. He slowly turned his head towards the kitchen and dropped his bag of groceries when he saw Blake standing there.

"Oh dear, merciful Jesus…" Nathaniel began to back away and started saying a prayer. Norman had never seen such genuine fear in his life. This guy _really_ believed that Blake was the antichrist.

Blake rolled his eyes. "Oh cut the crap Nathaniel," he approached him, getting uncomfortably close. Nathaniel pulled his hands up to his chest, trying to protect himself, he looked near tears he was so afraid.

"Back off, Blake," Norman snapped. "Listen Nathaniel, we just want to ask you if you know anything about some kidnappings that have been going on in the area. Where were you last Wednesday around four thirty in the afternoon?"

"I was here," Nathaniel answered.

"Do you know anyone who can verify that information?" Norman asked coolly.

"I-I don't know… I…" he stuttered.

"It's alright Nathaniel, there's no need to-" Norman was interrupted.

"Does the name Jeremy Bowles mean anything to you?" Blake took a few steps towards Nathaniel and folded his arms.

"No sir," Nathaniel answered.

"What about Johnny Winter?" he edged even closer. Nathaniel shook his head. "Bullshit!" Blake yelled. "It was all over the news."

"I don't own a television," Nathaniel said, not looking at Blake.

"What about the newspaper?" Blake took a few more steps towards the terrified man.

"The only text I read is the Holy Bible," he said. Blake laughed wickedly and got inches from Nathaniel's face. Norman half expected him to punch the poor bastard, but instead he put his hand on his shoulder.

"You took those kids didn't you?" he whispered. Norman knew Blake was relishing in Nathaniel's fear of him, if the psycho could bottle the emotion and wear it every day like perfume, he would. "Did the voices tell you to do it? Did they tell you to take those poor kids and drown them in the gutter like fucking rats?"

"Blake, that's enough!" Norman said.

"What else do the voices tell you to do?" Blake whispered.

"Stop it," Nathaniel pleaded.

"Blake! I mean it!" Norman ordered.

"How many more kids do you have to kill, huh, Nathaniel?" Blake grabbed Nathaniel by the collar.

"Please! Stop!" Nathaniel cried.

"Blake!" Norman took a few steps forward to pry Blake's grip loose when he threw Nathaniel on the floor. In an instant Nathaniel was on his feet and had a semiautomatic handgun pointed right in Blake's face. Norman pulled his FBI issued Glock and held it steadily in Nathaniel's direction.

"You are the Antichrist!" Nathaniel screamed, not taking his eyes off of Blake. "With God as my witness I'll send you back to hell from where you came!"

"Nathaniel put your gun down now!" Norman yelled, feeling adrenaline shoot into his bloodstream. His heart pounded violently in his chest.

"Jayden shoot!" Blake said, looking genuinely afraid.

"Nathaniel, stand down!" Norman ordered. He felt his heart pounding in his ears now and he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. The world around him began to spin, and he felt sweat trickle down his neck. Norman couldn't see a thing, all he heard were the panicked voices around him. It was as if the world had completely melted into a dismal pool of black and grey.

"Shoot, Jayden, shoot!" Blake sounded desperate now.

Norman felt his finger squeeze the trigger on his gun and a loud crack shocked his brain, returning him to reality. The world came back into focus. Blake was clutching his chest, looking shook up, he released a heavy breath, a sigh of relief. Norman's icy eyes traveled from Blake to Nathaniel, who was lying on the floor. A halo of blood surrounded him on the carpet. A head shot. A fucking head shot.

"Oh my God…" Norman said, dropping his gun on the floor. He felt him limbs go limp and he had to fight not to collapse onto his knees. "I-I shot him…"

Blake nodded. "You sure did."

"He's dead…" Norman couldn't believe his eyes. He was horrified. "I just killed a man…" He felt his stomach flip up into his throat and a wave of nausea crashed over him.

_I didn't know what to do, I couldn't see a thing…_

"You didn't have a choice, Jayden," Blake said. "That guy thought I was the Antichrist, he was going to kill me," he pulled his radio off of his holster. "This is Lieutenant Carter Blake. I need an ambulance at 425 Hamilton Road, Building 5, Apartment 12. I have a suspect who sustained a gunshot wound to the head," he glanced at Norman, who looked more pale and sick that usual, he clicked off the radio. "You did the right thing, kid."

Norman shook his head and backed up against the wall. He slid down into a crouching position and put his hand over his mouth, he felt instantly anesthetized. He'd never killed a man before.

Blake clicked his radio back on. "Send counsel for my partner…"

Norman had hardly noticed Blake's request for counsel. The terror of knowing he'd taken someone's life was sneaking up his veins. How could he have made such a horrible mistake?

A few hours later Norman sat in the car with Blake, waiting outside a corner market for their second suspect. The counsel Blake requested for him had consisted of a smartly dressed police department employee, most likely a crisis counselor, telling him that he'd done the right thing, and that he didn't have a choice, because his first interest was protect his partner from harm, which he had done.

The silence between him and Blake was uncomfortable to say the least. "Was that the first time?" Blake finally asked after some time of silence.

"First time that I killed somebody?' Norman asked, glancing sideways at Blake.

"Yeah," Blake kept his eyes on the market outside.

"Yeah…" Norman traced his finger along some steam that had collected on the base of the window. "My partner shot a serial killer once, but I uh, I've never done anything like that…"

"It's always hard the first time," Blake said. "Then it gets easier."

Norman felt disgusted. "You know this from experience?"

"When you've been a cop as long as me you've seen a lot of bullshit, kid. I've capped my share of trigger happy speed freaks. I didn't have a choice, it was me or them, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me."

_Like I believe that…_

"So your partner killed someone, huh?"

"Yeah," Norman shifted uncomfortably. "It was my fault…" he trailed off, wondering if he should bother telling Blake the story or not. The man had seemed unnervingly sincere since Nathaniel forced him to face possible death…

A few years back he and Katie were hot on the trail of a one John Calder, informally known as The Gutter, who was violently murdering young men in the Baltimore area. They managed to corner him in outermost Maryland with backup over thirty minutes away. Not wanting to risk his escape, they entered his apartment. Katie went out onto the fire escape to see if he'd jumped down, and Norman checked the bathroom. After pulling back the curtain on the shower he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. Calder had come out of nowhere, he grabbed Norman's gun out of his holster and tossed it into the tub, then he wrapped his arm around his neck and dragged him out into the living room.

Calder smiled menacingly. "On your knees pig," he'd demanded. Norman did what he was told and Calder pressed the cold end of the gun against his forehead. "Call for help and I blow the girl away the second she climbs in from the fire escape."

Norman swallowed hard, feeling for an instant that he was about to die. It was the strangest sensation…

The sound of a handgun being cocked broke the silence. "Freeze!" Katie's voice emerged from the fire escape. "Put your gun down or I'll shoot."

Calder reared his head back and laughed maniacally. "I'm not afraid to die, sweetheart."

"You have five seconds before I discharge my weapon Mr. Calder," she warned. "5…"

"Do you want to know what's wrong with you Feds?" Calder asked.

"4…" Katie's voice didn't show the slightest bit of uncertainty.

"You think you're invincible," Calder grinned.

"3…"

"Your partner didn't even have his gun drawn," he said.

"2…"

"He deserves a little punishment for his arrogance," Calder pulled back the hammer on his gun.

"1…" Katie fired her Glock without hesitation, hitting Calder in the temple. He fell to the ground. Sheer terror flashed in her eyes for a second at the realization that she'd killed someone. She lowered her gun and stared at the space where the man had stood only seconds before. After some time of silence she holstered her pistol and asked him if he was alright…

Norman felt Blake's eyes on him. "What happened?" Blake asked after the prolonged silence.

He decided not to tell Blake the whole story. "I uh, I was careless in the pursuit of a suspect and as a result I was held at gunpoint without a weapon. She saved my life."

"Tough break," Blake said. "Hey look, I heard about what happened to your partner, I'm really sorry. Being a badge widower is never easy."

Norman looked at Blake, surprised at the comment.

_Maybe this guy should get held at gunpoint more often… it makes him bearable_

"Thanks Carter," he said.

Blake abruptly elbowed him and motioned to a man walking outside. "That's our man." They got out of the car and approached him. He was tall, muscular, and wore a red sweatshirt. "Mirsolav Korda?" Blake asked.

"Uh, yeah…" the guy looked guilty enough. The tattoos on his face suggested he'd had a run or two in prison.

"I'm Lieutenant Blake, this is Agent Jayden, we want to ask you a few questions."

Korda licked his lips and looked back and forth between the two. Norman took a step back, sensing that something was about to happen. At the FBI Academy in Quantico they teach cadets to always trust their instincts, and Norman was preparing for this guy to make a break for it.

"Alright," Korda shrugged and walked between the two, heading for the car.

_He seems to be complying…_

Suddenly, he threw his coffee in Blake's face, shoved Norman and ran off towards the market. "Ah, shit!" Blake yelled. "Don't just stand there, idiot! Don't let him get away!"

Norman took off after Korda narrowly dodging two cars and knocking over a guy carrying a few boxes. The pursuit ran him through the market. Norman dodged customers, employees and jumped over a few cash registers before he ended up in a meat locker. Korda was nowhere to be seen.

_Where are you, you son of a bitch?_

He drew his gun, wondering for a moment if he'd make the same mistake he did earlier. Would he kill another man today? Would this one deserve it? Korda had a pretty violent record, maybe Blake was right, kill or be killed…

He pushed through the carcasses hanging from the ceiling, he didn't hear anything, the locker was so impossibly silent that Norman's ears started to ring. He lowered his gun for a split second in defeat.

_Damn it, he must've gotten away…_

Before he could think about how cold he'd become skulking around in the freezer, he felt an explosion of pain in the back of his skull. The world flashed a bright white and then black, he dropped his gun and fell to the ground, feeling dizzy and disoriented. He turned to see Korda gripping a crowbar tightly in his hands. It came swooping towards him again and he grabbed it, holding it tight. His heart pounded in his ears as he struggled for the weapon. He kicked Korda forcefully in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Norman leapt to his feet, the pain in his skull made the world spin swiftly around him and he almost fell over. Korda came for him again and Norman couldn't react fast enough, the bar came crashing down on his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and managed to elbow Korda in the nose, a loud crack broke the air and he dropped the crowbar. Norman hastily picked it up and gripped it tightly. He hit Korda swiftly in the back of the head, and he fell to the ground. He wasn't unconscious, but he writhed in pain on the concrete floor.

_Motherfucker…_

Norman dropped the crowbar and breathed deeply. He reached up and touched the throbbing spot on the back of his head. His fingers met a warm liquid.

_Blood, great_

He rolled his right shoulder and rubbed the spot that had instantly burst into a black bruise, hoping to soothe it, but only caused more pain. A few seconds later Blake strolled into the meat locker. "Where the fuck were you?" Norman yelled.

"I was right behind you, kid," Blake said impatiently, laying some cuffs on Korda.

"I had your back today, Blake!" Norman snapped. "The least you could do is be in tow when I'm after a suspect, he nearly bashed my brains in!"

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Norman!" Blake yelled, any cordialness from earlier had since sloughed off. Blake grabbed Korda by the shoulders and yanked him up off the floor. "You're coming with us punk."

Korda's expression contorted and he spat in Blake's face. Norman prepared himself to witness another bout of police brutality. However, Blake just grinned, wiped the spit off his cheek, and then smeared his saliva covered fingers all over Korda's face. "Disgusting," Blake hissed. "Let's get this piece of trash back to the station Jayden."

Norman nodded, and picked up his gun off the ground. He holstered it and followed Blake back to the car. Once they were safely inside the vehicle Norman pulled a tissue out of his pocket and dabbed the back of his head gingerly.

"You should probably get checked out once we get back," Blake said, after seeing the blood soaked tissue.

Norman shook his head. "Nah, I'll be alright, it's just a small cut. You know, head wounds bleed more that wounds anywhere else on the body because there's more blood circulating up there."

"Whatever," Blake scoffed. He looked at Korda through the rearview mirror. "So Korda, how does it feel knowing you're going to be charged with assaulting a federal agent?"

"Fuck you," Korda muttered. Blake grinned and took his eyes off of the rearview mirror.

Questioning Korda was a nightmare. Apparently the only reason Blake had acted so level headed during the arrest was because he was planning to beat him senseless the second he was in an interrogation room. They sat Korda down in a chair, but didn't remove his handcuffs.

"So," Blake began. "Where were you last Wednesday around four thirty?"

"I was at work," Korda snapped.

"Where do you work?" Norman asked.

"The gas station on Gramercy," Korda replied.

"Does the name Jeremy Bowles mean anything to you?" Blake asked.

"Nope," Korda was emitting waves of arrogance that was beginning to get under Blake's skin.

"What about Johnny Winter?" Blake probed further.

"Johnny Winter?" Korda licked his lips. "That whore's son?"

"I beg your pardon?" Norman asked.

"Yeah, didn't you know? Lauren Winter is a fucking hooker, she lives in an apartment building a few blocks from here. Fifty bucks buys you ten minutes, boys," Korda said smugly.

"So you knew Johnny Winter?" Norman asked.

Korda shrugged. "He hung around sometimes, he seemed like a pretty good kid, you know, for being a whore's son."

"Why did you run from us?" Blake asked.

"Look, I did some time, I missed my last meeting with my parole officer," Korda said.

Norman nodded, this guy wasn't a serial killer. He was a sleazy no good scumbag, and a pathetic excuse for human life, but he wasn't a child killer. "Alright Mr. Korda," Norman began, but Blake put his hand up.

"You expect us to believe that?" he barked.

"C'mon Blake…" Norman sighed.

_I've had enough of your sadistic shit today…_

"The FBI doesn't come after you for violating parole, you were running for a different reason weren't you?" Blake got in Korda's face. "You get off on killing kids, Korda?"

Korda didn't say anything.

"Do you like watching them kick and scream and gasp for air while you drown them?" Blake growled.

Korda shot up out of his chair in disgust. "What the fuck man? That's sick! I don't wanna hear any of that shit!"

Blake turned to Norman. "Good actor," he said. "Where'd you study, Korda? Julliard?" He laughed, a real belly laugh. "Sit down."

The air in the interrogation room got heavy and tense. Norman wasn't sure who was more afraid of what was going to happen next, him, or Korda. Korda didn't make a move. "I didn't kill any kids, okay? Like I said, I did time, I robbed a few places, I messed a few guys up good, but I'd never kill any kids."

Blake stood up and slowly approached Korda, once he was an inch from his face he grinned. "Sit down," he commanded again.

"I didn't kill any kids," Korda insisted, no longer cocky or smug. A flash of fury ran over Blake's face and he grabbed Korda by the sweatshirt and slammed him down on the table, knocking his head hard against the surface.

"Blake!" Norman had acted before he had a chance to contemplate the consequences of jumping between Blake and his victim.

"Fuck off, Jayden!" Blake yelled. "This guy is a suspect, and should be treated like one."

"You can't beat a confession out of someone!" he yelled.

"Listen to your partner!" Korda spat angrily.

That was the wrong thing to say, Norman saw the anger written all over Blake's face. Blake pulled back his fist and started pounding it into Korda's face. Korda pulled up his handcuffed limbs, trying to protect himself. It seemed as though blood was flying everywhere, and the sickening sound of his skull violently smashing against the table over and over again made Norman's blood boil.

_Oh for fuck's sake!_

He braced himself and shoved Blake as hard as he could, hoping it would get him off of Korda long enough to talk some sense into him. Blake hit the wall behind him and stared at Norman in disbelief. "That's enough, Blake!" he yelled. Blake took a few steps forward and grabbed Norman's shirt.

"You don't call the shots around here, kid, this is _my_ investigation!" Blake sneered.

"This is _our_ investigation!" Norman yelled as he yanked out of Blake's grip. "And you can't beat up a handcuffed suspect just because you're pissed off at him! He's not a child killer, you don't have to be a profiler to see that!" Blake's black eyes burned into the young agent, maybe he was coming to the realization that he was neither intimidated by him nor afraid of him. "Enough is enough," Norman added.

Blake's eyes narrowed, he shoved Norman and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him. Norman let out a heavy breath he'd been holding the entire time and straightened his shirt. Korda had rolled off the table and onto the ground, he was curled up in a ball, there was a sizeable amount of blood around his head.

Norman crouched down. "Are you alright Mr. Korda?" he asked. Korda moved his hands and looked at him. His face was swollen and bruised already. "I'll get someone in here to help you," Norman said. He stood up and ventured out into the police station.

_I hope Blake gets his ass tanned for pulling a stunt like that! Trying to beat a confession out of a suspect! What was he thinking?_

Several hours later, Norman was in the safety of his hotel room. The windows were shut tight against the rain and the only light was the soft blue glow coming from behind his ARI glasses. He ran his fingers lovingly across the keys of the piano he saw in his virtual world. The room around him wasn't a hotel room at all, but a lounge, with rich, soft carpets and warm wooden paneled walls. He could even smell the subtle, lingering scent of cigarettes in the air. He pressed one of the ivory keys, gingerly, to see what sound it wanted to make. It was deep, low, and vibrated through his entire body.

Norman had always loved the piano. He used to play it well, too. Extremely well, actually. When he was about five, his mom took him to a music store in Boston when he'd asked about the pianos in the window. He was a natural, or so everyone said. Once he sat down at the keys things seemed to fall into place, he _understood_ music, understood the melodies, everything went perfectly smoothly when he set his fingers on the delicate keys. Everyone treated him like he was special because of it. They all said that he was some kind of child protégé. When he was a kid he just thought it was silly that everyone doted on him the second he sat down at a piano.

After his mother died he stopped taking lessons, and stopped doing recitals. He didn't have the time, his dad was such a mess… and someone had to take care of Danny…

He pressed down on another key and listened to its sound. He took a deep breath and pressed a few more keys, until the baby grand was resonating a tune that sounded a lot like something Pachelbel would write, but it wasn't quite the same, it was darker, uglier… He could never be as good as he once was. He lifted his tired hands off the keys.

"Why'd you stop?" a raspy voice asked from somewhere above him. "I thought it was beautiful." Norman glanced up to see a slender form lying on top of the piano. She turned on her side, resting her head in her hand. Her yellow eyes glowed beneath her messy bangs, and the freckles on the bridge of her nose were exactly where he remembered. She wore a short, silky nightgown, and her smooth legs stemmed out in just the way he liked. She was so simple, so plain, why was she so beautiful?

He didn't answer, he just stared at her, afraid that she'd disappear if he blinked. Her eyes traveled to the half empty bottle of Vodka on the bench beside him. "Rough day?" she asked.

Norman felt his heart sink. "I killed a man today…" he said. "I shot him."

"I know," she said sadly. She reached out and brushed some hair off his forehead. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"No," was all he managed to push out.

"I killed a man once," she said softly. "Don't you remember?"

"Of course I do…" he trailed off. "But John Calder was a murderer, Katie, I shot an innocent man."

"He pulled a gun on your partner, you didn't have a choice," she said. Her face turned from thoughtful to concerned. "Speaking of partners," she pulled herself up into a sitting position and slid off the top of the piano and onto the bench beside Norman. "What's going on with this Blake guy?"

"I have no idea," he said, sighing heavily. "I think he's used to being able to do whatever he wants, he's like a spoiled child. He didn't so much as get a slap on the wrist for what he did to Korda today."

"Be careful, Norman," she said, very seriously. "Carter Blake is dangerous, he doesn't have your back at all. He could get you killed."

Norman rubbed his neck. He felt near tears. His head was throbbing, his shoulder ached, his nose was burning from the three doses of Triptocaine he'd taken since he got back to the hotel room, and he'd killed an innocent man. The only comforting thing was the soft sound of Katie's breath beside him. Was she real? She seemed real enough, but Katie was dead. The dead don't breathe…

"Promise me you'll tread lightly around Blake," she said.

"I promise," he answered.

"You've got to snap out of it Norman," she said quietly. "Shaun Mars will be dead in less than a week with the way the rain is coming down…"

"Shaun Mars?" he asked, looking at her very seriously. "The runaway?"

She sighed. "Shaun Mars isn't a runaway Norman, think about it, he's hasn't turned up after two days, and he disappeared in broad daylight. That's the Origami Killer's MO."

He carefully set his hands on her shoulders. "How would you know that?" he asked urgently.

She shrugged. "Don't they say that in death, all of life's questions are answered?"

He just stared at her, not entirely sure what to say.

"Don't let this kid slip through your fingers, Norman," she said. "I know you. You'll never be able to forgive yourself if you do." She ran her fingers through his hair. "You should go talk to his father, he knows more than you think."

"I don't have any evidence that proves the Origami Killer took Shaun Mars, Katie," he said despairingly.

"You don't?" she asked, sounding sly.

"No."

"I think you do."

"No, I don't, Katie."

"Trust me, Norman, you _do_," she grinned. "You just forgot to present it. You've always been terrible at public speaking…"

_It was hard to keep my thoughts straights with that sadistic, psychopathic asshole jumping down my throat every few seconds…_

There was a silence between them. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she stretched her neck from side to side. There's no way she couldn't be real. He could hear her breathing for god's sake! ARI has been known to conjure up some pretty powerful hallucinations, though…

He felt his throat get tight with tears as he stared at her sitting there on the bench beside him. They could have had so much together.

"I miss you, Katie," he said abruptly.

She turned towards him, very slowly, as if it hurt her to move. "I miss you, too, Norman," she said sadly. "It gets lonely here, sometimes."

He turned towards her and carefully reached out to caress her bare knee, wondering if he'd be able to touch her. His fingers met the warm skin of her leg. She moved closer to him, sliding one of her legs on top of his. He put his hand on her thigh. "I can't do this without you," he said.

"Yes you can," she said seriously. "You have to, I'm never coming back, Norman. It's all you now."

He swallowed hard and blinked back tears. He couldn't cry in front of Katie, he wanted her back so badly. He leaned forwards and set his forehead on hers.

"I just wasn't ready," he said, his voice cracking.

She put her hands on the back of his neck. "Neither was I…"

He couldn't fight it anymore, he felt his heart sink, and when he blinked, tears poured down his cheeks and he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. He felt her arms around him, too. He knew she had to be real, or he would let himself believe that until he was ready to let her go.

~Okay, so this chapter is about as twice as long as the ones I usually write, I just couldn't find a spot to split it in that felt right, I hope it wasn't too long and tedious to read! My next chapter will have some characters meeting (most likely Norman and Ethan... I can't promise though) I appreciate the comments I received on my last chapter, you guys are awesome! Thanks to everyone who read as well :) Feedback is appreciated as always!~


	7. Chapter 7

"Thank God we beat the press here," Blake said while brushing some raindrops off his leather jacket. "You never know where those little fuckers are going to show up…"

Norman nodded and pulled his shoulders in close, trying to keep warm. The journalists around here were pretty well informed, they seemed to show up at crime scenes the same time as the police. He reached out and knocked on Ethan Mars' front door. After reviewing his files, he found the piece of evidence Katie had been talking about that linked Shaun Mars to the Origami Killer. Blake had actually listened to his theory with interest and suggested _himself_ that they pay a visit to Ethan Mars, who hadn't been answering his phone since Shaun disappeared. Letting Blake think that going to talk to Mars was all his idea seemed to be working out nicely.

_Aside from that, what was I supposed to tell him? 'We should go talk to Ethan Mars because my dead partner told me to?' That's the last thing I need to be saying to this guy…_

The pair waited patiently under the covered porch as Norman knocked again. There was no answer, not even the slightest rustling came from the inside.

"You think he skipped town?" Blake asked.

Norman shrugged. "I'm not sure, but something's not right with this guy. I think he knows more about Shaun's disappearance than he let on."

Blake reached down and turned the handle on the door, it clicked open.

"It's unlocked," he said to Norman, looking at him expectantly. "Let's take a look around."

"Blake," Norman rubbed his temples exasperatedly. "I don't know if you slept through the week during the police academy where they talked about entering homes without a warrant, or what, but allow me to fill you in: it's _illegal_."

Blake scowled. "I don't need you to tell me the law, Norman," he growled, letting go of the door handle and getting uncomfortably close to the young agent's face.

_Oh for god's sake, here we go…_

"We'll come back later, Carter," Norman said firmly. He turned away and started down the stairs of the porch towards the car.

"Think about it Jayden," Blake yelled after him, sounding curt. "One son died two years ago, now the other is missing. For all we know, he hung himself in there and that's why he's not answering our calls."

Norman stopped walking. He knew Blake wasn't the least bit concerned with Ethan Mars' state of well being, but he made a good point, an excellent point, actually. He turned around and headed back up the stairs.

"Fine," he snapped. "But if we search the house and there's no corpse, we're not sticking around to snoop, got it?"

Blake rolled his eyes and pushed the door open. "Whatever you say, kid."

The house was small and cluttered. The heavy scent of dust hung stagnantly in the air and there were boxes in the living room filled with objects that probably should have been unpacked years ago. "What a shit hole," Blake remarked.

_And I take it you live in the lap of luxury, Blake?_

"Well, it doesn't smell like someone died in here," Norman said, closing the door softly behind him. "Mr. Mars?" he called up the stairs. There was no answer, the house was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made Norman's ears ring.

"You check the upstairs," Blake ordered. "I'll look around down here."

Norman headed up the stairs, feeling each step creek under his feet. His heart rate picked up once he reached the top of the stair case. What if Ethan Mars really was dead up here? Seeing bloated dead bodies was part of his job, but that didn't mean the thought couldn't make him anxious every now and again.

There was a door to his left, he pushed it open. It was the bathroom. He entered and cautiously pulled back the shower curtain, half expecting to see a dead body lying in the tub. His heart relaxed a little when he found the shower to be completely empty aside from a singular bar of soap.

Across the hall was Ethan's room. Norman looked around, only opening the closet and looking in places big enough for a grown man to hide, he wasn't interested in snooping around in Ethan's belongings. He wasn't about to let Blake catch him doing anything but searching for a body, he'd never hear the end of it.

Beside Ethan's bedroom was a very small, dusty room that looked like it was originally supposed to be used as an office, but it had since become a place to store boxes and house dust bunnies. There was an architectural blueprint on the desk and a small television with a VCR in the corner. The title of the tape on top of the TV said, 'Jason and Shaun, Fall 2008.' Norman felt his heart sink as he noticed it was the only thing in the room not covered in dust. Ethan Mars must have watched it recently… He was filled with a sudden, urgent feeling to leave the room, like he'd walked into something deeply personal he wasn't supposed to see. He turned around and quietly shut the door behind him.

The next room he peered into was a child's room, he searched under the bed, in the closet, and in the child sized teepee in the corner.

"Do you really think you'll find a body in a kid's teepee?" Blake asked from behind him, he hadn't even heard him come up the stairs.

Norman zipped the teepee shut and stood up. "I've found bodies in stranger places before," he said, resisting the urge to elaborate. "He's not up here."

"He's not downstairs either," Blake said, looking around the room, and then he got a very serious look on his face. "But I found something I think you should see…"

Norman followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen where Blake picked up a piece of paper from the table and handed it to him. Norman read it to himself.

'_When the parents came home from church, all their children were gone, they searched and called for them, they cried and begged, but it was all to no avail, the children have never been seen again' _

"Well that's twisted…" he examined the text, it appeared to have been written by an older model of typewriter.

"When I went to go talk to Mrs. Bowles, right after Jeremy went missing, she gave me a piece of paper with that exact poem on it," Blake said. "She told me it came in the mail addressed to her husband the day before her son went missing."

"So now we know for sure that the Origami Killer has Shaun Mars," Norman said. "We don't have a lot of time."

"We have to find Ethan Mars," Blake said. "See that drawer over there by the sink?"

Norman glanced to the other side of the kitchen, it looked like an ordinary drawer. He nodded.

"You should go open it," Blake said.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Norman walked over to the drawer, not sure what he was going to find. Blake was sick enough not to warn him if there was something disturbing in there. He slowly pulled the drawer open.

It was filled with origami figures.

Norman reached into the drawer and pulled a few figures out to examine them. They were precise, like their maker was well practiced.

"What does your fancy psychology degree make of that, _Norman_?" Blake asked mockingly.

Norman didn't say anything for a few minutes, though he knew exactly what Blake was getting at, he just stood there and looked at the figures. He knew that something was up with Ethan Mars, he knew there was something he wasn't telling them the other night, but he didn't think it was _this_. Could Ethan Mars really have something to do with the Origami Killer murders? Having a drawer full of the damn things was definitely suspect...

After the sustained silence, Blake folded his arms and grinned smugly. "That's what I thought," he clicked on his radio. "This is Lieutenant Carter Blake, put an APB out on Ethan Mars, we've got to bring him in for questioning, it's urgent."

A crackly voice came over the radio. "Yes sir."

Norman was completely speechless. He honestly didn't know what to make of this. Finding origami figures in a man's house doesn't make him the killer. He was never one to jump to conclusions, but… but this was just too strange.

Blake put the radio back on his belt and turned to him. "Looks like we've got our Origami Killer," he said proudly.

Norman softly closed the drawer and laced his fingers together.

_Do we?_

Madison walked up the concrete stairs outside her motel room. Every once and awhile she'd check into one of these seedy places so she could sleep. Something about the unfamiliarity of a motel room could lull her to sleep with ease. She found her room, it was right by the stairs. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the keycard, she was about to swipe it when she noticed someone leaning on the railing a few feet away. She looked over her shoulder at him, and didn't think much until she noticed some blood dripping onto the concrete.

_Oh my God…_

She quickly slipped the keycard back in her pocket and rushed over to him. "Sir?" she asked urgently. "Sir, are you okay?"

He was gripping the railing and breathing heavily. She softly set her hand on his shoulder. "Sir?" she tried to get a good look at his face, but his head was bowed. "Are you hurt?"

Finally, the man cleared his throat. "I'm fine," was all he said. Madison looked him up and down, his clothes were torn and he was definitely bleeding heavily from somewhere.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "Let me call an ambulance."

"No!" He said it so urgently that she jumped and almost dropped the phone. He turned his head towards her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said. "I'm fine, really."

She put the phone back in her pocket and nodded. She examined his face, she'd seen it before. He looked so familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint who he was. "Do you need help getting to your room, at least?" she asked.

"I should be okay," he let go of the railing and went to turn and walk away when pain flashed in his eyes and he started to collapse.

Madison caught him. "Here, let me help you." She slung his arm over her shoulder and carried his weight. "Which room is yours?"

He pointed towards a door about ten feet away, his hand was dirty and covered in dried blood. They walked slowly to the door and he took the keycard out of his pocket and handed it to her. She swiped it and pushed the door open. She helped him to the bed, where he sat down and groaned softly, rubbing his ribs.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Okay," she put the keycard down on the table beside the door, he was in bad shape and she didn't want to leave until she knew for sure he was going to be okay. She stood there for a second.

"Really, Ms.—"

"My name's Madison," she said, softly.

"Madison," he painfully slipped his jacket off. "I'm fine, I appreciate you helping me to my room, but I was only in a minor accident and I'm going to be okay. Please don't call 9-1-1 when you leave."

_This guy is completely serious!_

There was no use trying to persuade him. "I won't…" she paused. "What's your name?" Maybe hearing his name would place where she knew his face from.

"Ethan," he said.

She felt her blood turn to ice. She knew she recognized him. She nervously cleared her throat and headed for the door. "Take care, Ethan," she said hastily and left the room, shutting the door tight behind her.

_Ethan Mars! Holy shit, I knew I recognized him from somewhere! How could I have been so stupid?_

His son had just gone missing, and the cops put an APB out on him only a few hours ago. A friend of hers from the news service, who had the bad habit of hacking police radios, had heard the original APB order from Lieutenant Blake.

_He said the police think Mars is the Origami Killer!_

She opened her motel room door and slammed it behind her, dead bolting it. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to collect her thoughts. She knew she should call the police and report that she'd seen him. She slid towards the nightstand, picked up the phone, and started to dial the tip line for the police station. But after the third or fourth number, something stopped her.

"_You're not Mother Theresa, Madison, you're a reporter, and in the world of journalism, it pays to be a little cutthroat."_

Yvonne's words played over and over again in her head. This could be the front page article that would jumpstart her career.

_But he's a suspect, I _have_ to call the police…_

"_You want to know why you've been working at the paper for over four years and you still get stuck with stupid stories like who won the high school football game?"_

Yvonne was right. She'd never get anywhere if she kept playing it so safe. The Origami Killer case was the story of the decade, and if she was the journalist to cover it, her career would be set. Her boss would be asking her to cover top news stories instead of asking her to get him coffee in the morning.

She held the phone in her hands, it was waiting for the next number, waiting for her to dial the tip line and put the possible Origami Killer behind bars. Wouldn't that be recognition enough? She would be the person who helped bring him in…

_That's not the same as covering the story…_

She very slowly reached over and hung up the hotel phone. If she was going to help bring Mars in, she was going to cut a deal first.

She got up early the next morning and headed for the police station. She knew she wouldn't be able to make any kind of an arrangement with Lieutenant Blake, but maybe Agent Jayden would be willing to listen to her, especially if she let it slip that she knew all about the affair with his late partner. She felt slightly nauseated at the thought of trying to blackmail an FBI agent into letting her in on classified information, but maybe now was the time to start taking her job a little more seriously.

She walked up to the police station and carefully dried her feet off on the mat before she entered. Her heart rate picked up a little.

_This is so wrong, what am I doing?_

She hesitated for a second, standing outside the doors, barely shielded from the rain. This isn't the kind of reporter she wanted to be, but she didn't want to be the kind of reporter who covers useless stories for her entire career, either. She took a deep breath and entered the station.

She headed for the front desk, trying to look as calm and confident as possible. The receptionist was reading a book, and didn't look up when she approached. Madison cleared her throat. "Excuse me?" she asked politely.

The receptionist looked up and sighed. "There's no press conference today, Ms. Paige," she said flatly, and went back to her book.

Madison persisted. "I'd like to speak with Agent Jayden, is he in?"

The receptionist closed her book and set it aside, she looked irritated. "He and Lieutenant Blake just got back. Is he expecting you?"

"No, he's not," Madison said in a matter of fact tone. She refused to let herself be intimidated, she'd made a resolution to stop being a pushover and she was going to stick with it.

"I'm sure he's very busy, Ms. Paige–"

Madison interrupted her. "Please go tell Agent Jayden that I am here and I would like to speak with him, I'm sure he can decide for himself if he's too busy to see me."

The receptionist seemed taken aback, her face went from irritated to shock and she stood up slowly from her desk and headed for an office on the back wall. "Just give me a moment," she said softly.

Madison smiled to herself, pleased with her handling of the situation. _You go girl!_

She watched as the newly humbled receptionist knocked on the door, it opened and Agent Jayden appeared. They spoke for a second and he looked in her direction. He looked confused, but raised his hand and waved her back anyway. She headed towards his office, not looking at the receptionist as she made her way back to the front desk.

"Hello, Agent Jayden," Madison extended her hand for a shake. "We've met once before, I'm Madison—"

"Madison Paige, I remember you," he shook her hand. "What can I do for you Ms. Paige?" he asked.

"Well, I was hoping I could have a word with you, can we step into your office?" she asked, trying to sound as confident as possible.

Jayden glanced behind him and into the office, his face soured for a brief moment, then it went back to the icy, professional mask he'd been wearing moments before. "Of course," he said. He pushed open the door and gestured for her to come in.

She stepped into the office, it was tiny, dark, and so dusty that the air was slightly difficult for her to inhale. It was less than hospitable, and she understood why Agent Jayden had thought twice before inviting her in.

He shut the door and pulled up an office chair with wheels on it and brushed it off. "Please, have a seat," he said. She sat down, and he took up a spot on the edge of the desk. He looked at her expectantly.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said. He nodded. He looked sick, his skin was sallow, and there were dark bags under his eyes.

_He looks completely exhausted…_

"What do you need?" he asked kindly.

She clasped her hands and leaned back in the chair. "I want to cover the Origami Killer story, Agent Jayden."

"I'm sure you do," he said. "But so does every reporter in the state. Isn't this the kind of thing you should be speaking with your boss about?"

"I think you can help me," she leaned forward. "I want to make a deal with you. I've been doing some digging of my own, and I think I have information that may be useful to the case. I'm more than willing to share that information with you and your partner. The only thing I ask in return is exclusivity on the news article about the conclusion of this case."

He took a few breaths, like he was thinking about what to say, then he cleared his throat. "With all due respect, Ms. Paige, I'm not into politics. I'm here to catch this killer, and that's all. I'm not interested in making deals with the press," he almost sounded bored, like he was reading from a script he'd read a million times before. "Now, I just got back from a meeting with a psychiatrist that didn't go so well thanks to Lieutenant Blake, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work." He stood up from his spot on the desk.

"Agent Jayden," Madison stood. "I think it would be in your best interest to appease me."

His brow furrowed, he looked stunned by the statement. "Excuse me?" he said.

"I have two possible stories in the works that would put my career on a more favorable path. The Origami Killer story is one of them, the other, well, I'm not sure how happy you'd be to see _that_ one published," she was surprised at how matter of fact she sounded.

He stared at her for a second. His icy eyes, which had been so confident and cool only moments before, had become confused and slightly panicked. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I have sources of information, just like any reporter," she began. "Your partner was a good cop."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, she was."

"She was an even better agent," Madison said. "I mean, she set an example for all women in law enforcement."

He nodded again, looking at her as if he was trying to look through her soul and see what she knew. His breathing had become shallow and his pupils dilated, a sign of stress. Madison felt remorseful for a minute, but she was so close to getting what she wanted…

"I know the two of you were having an affair. It would be unfortunate for her good name in the law enforcement community to be ruined over something like that."

He swallowed hard and kept his eyes locked on hers. "And you'll publish that article if I don't let you in on what I know about the Origami Killer," Jayden said, hardly above a whisper, it was almost as if he was saying it to himself.

"In a nutshell," she said.

He folded his arms. "Are you blackmailing me, Ms. Paige?"

Madison shook her head. "No."

"Really?" the agent asked. "Because this feels a lot like blackmail."

"I'm not blackmailing you, I'm just letting you know, that if I don't get the Origami Killer story, then the story about Katie Drescher's affair with you is the one I'm going to have to publish. I have deadlines to meet, Agent Jayden."

She could see something building in his eyes, but she wasn't sure what it was. Anger? Pain? She didn't know, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. He clenched his jaw tight and was quiet for some time.

"Fine," he finally said. "If I agree to keep you informed on this case you have to promise to bury that story. Katie died with a good reputation and I want it to stay that way. She doesn't deserve to be ruined."

Madison nodded and she stared at him. She took a small step back, afraid that he was going to explode any second. His lips were pursed and she could practically feel the animosity coming off of him.

"You said you had information about the case," he reminded her, not making eye contact anymore.

"Ethan Mars is at the Road Cross Motel, room 207," she said.

He turned to her. "How did you find him?" he asked.

"It was just luck," she said. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her card and set it on his desk. "That's my card, if you have anything you'd like to discuss you can call."

He agitatedly pulled a card out of his suit pocket and impatiently thrust it her way. "Likewise," he muttered. She gingerly took it from his fingers.

She slipped it in her pocket. "I'll be in touch," she said.

"I don't doubt that," he said.

She walked out of the office and into the police station. She didn't like how she felt. She was sweaty and nauseated.

_What did I just do?_

Maybe being a 'cutthroat' reporter wasn't worth the remorse…

~I wrote this really late so forgive me if there are typos! I just started a new job so I've had a hard time finding time to write :( However, I tried to add some scenes that weren't in the game, I hope they're not too terrible. I hope the characters are still sounding okay, it's been about a month since I wrote anything so I feel a little rusty... Thanks to everyone who read and to everyone who reviewed for my previous chapter! Those reviews keep me going! You guys are awesome!~


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, so this chapter has been a long time coming and for that I apologize to anyone who still cares to read this fanfic, I started a new job and it was very difficult to find time to write. It was really hard to write this chapter, I must have written three different versions before I settled on this one. I'm extremely rusty on character voice and pacing so please be forgiving lol. Also, I realized that the motel in the game is Crossroad Motel, not Road Cross Motel, I'm not sure how I managed to get so confused, but for consistency's sake I'm going to keep it that way. I tried to add a little action to this chapter since the last ones have been mostly dialogue driven. I hope everyone who reads can enjoy! Thanks.

* * *

The bright red and blue lights flashing against the black night sky outside Road Cross Motel made Norman's eyes burn. He blinked heavily and watched as Blake came down the concrete steps from second floor, looking ready to kill. He stomped across the parking lot towards Norman.

"They tossed the room," Blake said once he reached him. "Mars isn't in there."

"Damn it," Norman cursed under his breath, he was surprised at his own disappointment. His enthusiasm for this case had been curbed since his little meeting with that goddamn reporter.

Blake shrugged. "His name is on the motel register and he's got personal items in the room…" He trailed off and fished a pack of smokes out of his coat pocket. "He'll be back," he said as he lit the cigarette. "So long as he doesn't know we were here looking for him."

"I hope you're right," Norman said, eyeing Blake's pack of cigarettes enviously. He'd quit smoking years ago but it never lost its allure.

"We're gonna get this guy," Blake said with confidence, then he smacked Norman on the back. "That was one hell of an anonymous tip Jayden, maybe you're not so bad after all."

Norman nearly scoffed at the sound of 'anonymous tip.' Blake had left the station for an hour, and when he came back, all Norman had to tell him was that he took a call on his behalf, and someone claimed to know where Mars was. Blake was so hot to come catch the guy he didn't ask any questions, he just rounded up a team and they headed to the motel.

_I could've told him someone called and said they saw Ethan Mars on the moon through a telescope and he'd have gotten on the phone to NASA and demanded a shuttle go up there and get him!_

"I ordered a three car detail to wait out for him," Blake proceeded. "If all goes well we'll arrest this fucker tonight." Blake was grinning from ear to ear. "Let's grab a coffee and get to our post, we've got a long night ahead of us." Norman had to admit that, despite being weirdly uncharacteristic, Blake's good mood was infectious. He felt the excitement of the stakeout rubbing off on him, it was an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time…

Madison didn't dare to peek out her motel room window until all of the flashing lights were gone. The cops hadn't made a point to be discreet, she could hear the sirens coming from a mile away, and their enthusiastic raid probably awoke every single guest in the motel. Now, however, the parking lot seemed quiet and calm, not a cop car in sight. She sat down on the bed and picked up Agent Jayden's card off the nightstand. Despite making it very clear to him that her intention wasn't blackmail, she knew that's _exactly_ what it was. How long does someone go to prison for blackmailing a federal agent? She didn't even want to think about that.

This whole mess she'd thrust herself into was getting in the way of sleep, which was the whole reason she came to this damn motel in the first place.

_Oh God, I think I've made a terrible mistake…_

She put her clothes on and went downstairs to the front desk for a complimentary cup of coffee. The creepy manager openly ogled her on her way in. "Something I can help you with Ms. Paige?" he squawked, then he flashed her his nasty toothy grin.

"Uh… no," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sipping it gingerly. Trying to avoid his gaze, she took a chair near the door and stared aimlessly out the window. Something was strange about a few cars in the parking lot, they were all the same make and model, as well as the same color. After straining her eyes for a minute or two she saw that there were two men per car, doing apparently nothing.

_This couldn't be anything but a police detail. After that horrible ruckus I was sure they'd arrested Mars, why are they still hanging around?_

"Hey," she turned towards the manager. "I heard cop cars out here a little while ago, did they arrest somebody?"

"They came looking for someone," he said, thumbing through a magazine that Madison assumed was probably borderline pornographic.

"They didn't get who they were looking for?" she asked.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "They'd stepped out."

She grimaced and looked back out the window. The place looked calm enough to conceal the fact that the cops were ever there in the first place, but would Mars come back? He was in pretty bad shape when they met. Is it possible that he was seriously hurt somewhere? Despite being the person who sold him out, Madison couldn't help but worry about his condition. She thought about placing a call to Agent Jayden, letting him know that Mars was probably bleeding profusely around town, and there was a possibility that he wasn't coming back to the motel at all. If Mars _was_ hurt it'd be better for him if they found him sooner…

Norman felt his cell phone buzz in his suit pocket. He didn't reach for it, the last thing he needed to do on a stakeout was draw attention to the car with the light of a cell phone.

Blake grimaced, reacting to the loud buzzing. "Get a lot of calls past eleven at night?" he asked half cynically from the driver's seat.

Norman scoffed. "Not unless it's my boss," he said disdainfully, FBI directors were notorious for intrusive late night phone calls.

"I hear ya," Blake said with a little chuckle. His good mood made him bearable, Norman was actually enjoying the camaraderie. Too bad the only thing that could catapult Blake into this tolerable state was a potentially vicious manhunt. "If it's not Captain Perry calling me at an ungodly hour, it's my ex-wife," and he said with a mark of contempt. "You married, Jayden?" he asked.

Norman shook his head. "Nope, not me," he said staring out the window, watching the rain hastily slide down the glass as if it had somewhere to be. He could tell that this conversation was about to become chauvinistic in about 30 seconds…

"Smart," said Blake seriously. "Marriage is…" he paused for a second. "Marriage is fine a first, you get a great tax break, and there's always someone at home to listen to you bitch about your day, but after a few years it just starts to feel like a prison."

Norman rubbed his temples, desperately wanting this conversation to stop. The last thing he wanted was to be in Blake's presence when he flew into a rage about his failed marriage. He couldn't imagine what it was like for the woman who married him.

"Once you get married everything is one big compromise," Blake snarled.

"Life is one big compromise, Blake," Norman retorted, figuring Blake's good mood was over for now. "Plus, compromise never killed anyone."

Blake scoffed. "See it my way, kid," he said. "I was married for almost ten years, and the only thing I got out of it is a daughter I never get to see."

Norman felt some kind of strange, latent pity for Blake sneak its way into his veins. "How old is your daughter?" he asked.

"Six," Blake responded flatly. "Her mom keeps her in Scranton and feeds her a bunch of bullshit about how I'm too busy with work to see her." There was uncomfortable silence in the car for a few minutes. "My ex says I'm a rageaholic," Blake said abruptly. "And that she doesn't want our kid to see that."

Norman nodded, more to himself than to Blake. He wondered why Blake was telling him all this, he honestly didn't know how to respond. Up until now he'd just thought of him as an overbearing asshole who only existed to make his job more difficult. Now, he actually felt really sorry for him.

"Why don't you just show up and see her?" he asked.

"You don't know my ex-wife," Blake sounded more tired than angry.

"Fair enough," Norman said quietly. The whole conversation was depressing, and Norman, once again trapped in a car, couldn't get away from it. "I'm sorry to hear about all that," he whispered as an afterthought.

Blake shrugged. "That's life for ya…"

A hush fell over the car as a dark figure passed in front of it. The two men watched it intently until Blake reached for his gun. "Holy shit, it's Mars," he said urgently. He grabbed his radio and clicked it on. "This is Lt. Carter Blake, Agent Jayden and I have just spotted Mars, we're in pursuit," he turned to Norman. "Okay kid, let's get him."

Norman felt his heart pound in his throat as he got out of the car, he felt as though he were moving in slow motion. Blake came around the car and the two walked nonchalantly towards the figure they were sure was Mars. Once they'd followed the limping figure to the bottom of the stairs Blake made his move.

"Ethan Mars?" he called. The man turned around, staring at the pair of men with tired, bloodshot eyes. He didn't say anything, he just froze. It was Mars, no question. "Mr. Mars, I'm Lieutenant Blake, and this is Agent Jayden, I'm sure you remember us. We've been trying to get in contact with you for some time now," Blake was cool as a cucumber.

"I- I-" Mars stuttered. "I'm just staying here for awhile." Norman saw copious amounts of blood on Ethan's clothes, and he wondered if it all belonged to him.

Blake put his hands on his hips, pushing back his coat and exposing the gun and handcuffs on his belt, Norman knew that he was done playing cat and mouse. "Mr. Mars, Agent Jayden and I are here with a court order for your arrest," he said, gripping his cuffs. "You need to come with us."

Mars put his hands up defensively, suddenly taking on the stance of a cornered animal. He shook his head vigorously. "Look, I'm running out of time," Mars said urgently. "I can't go with you."

"Running out of time for what?" Blake barked. "Running out of time to kill your son?"

Mars eyes widened. "What do you mean?" he asked, backing up slowly.

Norman drew his gun, sensing that Mars was going to make a break for it. "C'mon, Ethan, turn around and put your hands up," he demanded, surprised at how harsh he sounded. The tired, bleeding man slowly turned around and put his hands on the back of his head. Blake pulled out his cuffs and approached Mars, grabbing his left wrist first.

In an instant, Mars thrust his elbow back into Blake's face, then he turned around and hit him again with such force that Blake dropped his cuffs and fell over. Before Norman could react, Mars took off, running much faster than a man in his condition should be able to.

_What the fuck just happened?_

Norman hastily holstered his gun and knelt down to see if Blake was conscious. Blake seemed to be fine, as he sat up and drew his gun. "Let's get that fucker!" he growled, shouldering Norman into motion. They took off running in the direction Mars had gone. They took a sharp turn under some stairs and froze, listening for the sound of footsteps. After a second, they heard someone running on the other side of the building.

"You go that way," Blake whispered, pointing in the opposite direction they were running. "We'll meet of on the other side and cut him off."

Norman did what he was told, knowing that Mars was only about thirty feet away. The sound of Blake's heavy, running footsteps got quieter as the space filled between them. It wasn't a long distance to run but the sudden snap of a Triptocaine craving was buzzing in his ear. He tried to shake it as he rounded the corner of the building, Blake was seconds ahead of him, running towards Mars.

Mars turned and tried to run the other way but met Norman instead. Stuck between two buildings, he had nowhere to go, and panic set in on his face. Blake came to a halt and drew his gun. "Put your fucking hands up!" he yelled.

Norman followed suit and pointed his Glock at Mars. "C'mon Ethan, there's nowhere to go," he said. "Put your hands up."

The tension in the alley clouded the air and Norman could see that Mars was nearing desperation. His eyes snapped nervously between the two cops closing in on him. Something wasn't right, Norman could feel it, but with the craving stifling his focus, he couldn't tell exactly what was making him so uneasy.

Suddenly the whole world tipped upside down and when it snapped into focus again, everything was moving in slow motion. What was really happening at the speed of light played out like a bad montage in a movie. Ethan pulled a gun out of his waistband and pointed it directly at Blake, without a moment's hesitation he pulled back the hammer and pumped a round right into Blake.

The violent scream from the handgun moved Norman back into real time. Mars was turned towards _him_ now, pointing the gun out, ready to fire again. Norman didn't have any time to react to the horror of Blake being shot, once the incident registered in his brain, he instinctively fired two rounds out of his gun at Mars. Both bullets hit him, one entered his chest and the other clipped his shoulder. He fell to the ground and the gun slid out of his hand and rested under the dumpster.

Not wasting a second to breath, Norman raced down to alley to Blake. A massive amount of blood was already pooling around him. "Blake!" Norman shook him slightly. Blake stirred for a second and grabbed Norman's arm, he looked pale and was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Norman grabbed the radio off Blake's belt.

_Where the fuck are the other four officers on this detail?_

He felt his temper flare as he clicked on the radio. "This is Agent Jayden, I have an officer down, Lieutenant Blake has been shot. The shooter has also sustained a gunshot wound."

A voice crackled over the radio. "We're sending an ambulance Agent Jayden, hang tight."

_Hang tight, my ass!_

He shook Blake again. "Carter, there's an ambulance on its way, hang in there okay?"

Blake gripped Norman's arm as he coughed up a mess of blood. "Where'd he hit me, Jayden?" he managed to ask.

"I can't tell," he said honestly, there was so much blood, Norman wasn't sure where the point of origin was. "Where does it hurt the most?" he asked.

"I can't feel anything," he said. "Did Mars get away?"

"He's down," Norman said. "I shot him, it's not fatal."

"I knew you weren't useless," Blake joked, despite his condition. "Where the hell are the rest of our guys?" he asked wearily.

"I wish I knew," Norman said, knowing that Blake was going downhill fast.

The whir of sirens emerged in the distance and the other officers on the detail came around the corner.

"Nice for you assholes to show up!" Norman snapped.

"Sorry, Jayden," one of them said. "Everything happened so fast."

"One of you go over there and check on Mars," Norman demanded, trying to stifle his rage. "And one of you go assist the EMT's, hurry!"

Blake rested his head on the wet pavement, but didn't loosen his grip on Norman's arm. Despite his stone cold demeanor, he knew Blake was deteriorating fast. "It's going to be okay, Blake," he tried to reassure him. "The ambulance is already here."

"Thanks, kid," he said, breathing becoming shallow now.

_Please Blake, please don't die…_

A group of EMT's came around the corner with stretchers. Norman backed off as they loaded Blake on, who was losing consciousness fast. He watched as they loaded Ethan onto the second stretcher, he seemed to be fairing well. Norman was relieved that the shots hadn't proven to be fatal, he was really just spouting bullshit when he'd told that to Blake.

After about half an hour of standing around and closing the crime scene with the additional officers who'd showed up at the motel, Norman was instructed by Captain Perry to go back to the hotel and rest. He was thankful to get out of the rain, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest knowing that Blake's condition was still irresolute.

The rain had subsided slightly once Norman parked outside his hotel. He took a deep breath and rested his head on the steering wheel.

"You look exhausted," a raspy voice came from the passenger seat.

Norman felt himself jump at the sound of the voice. He jerked his head to the seat, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't. Katie was sitting there, her eyes were full of sadness, and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She looked so real…

_It's just a hallucination, she's not real, she's not sitting in this car_

Norman reached up to his temple, to see if he'd been wearing ARI and hadn't notice, but his fingers met skin. He hadn't worn ARI all night. How could this be happening? Norman felt panic set in.

_Oh my god, I've finally lost it…_

"Jayden?" she said. "Are you alright?" She reached for him and wrapped her fingers around his, they were as cold as ice, like a corpse. "How's Blake?" she asked.

He stayed quiet for a few minutes, just looking at her pale, freezing hand. "He's still in surgery…" he finally said.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I hope so," he said. Aside from all the bullshit he'd taken from Blake he really did hope that he was going to be alright.

Katie didn't ask any other questions, she just sat there, and after awhile he noticed the cold sensation had left his fingers, and when he looked over to the passenger seat, it was empty.

* * *

Okay! I hope it wasn't a complete disappointment! I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed that last chapter, especially Gwell, who gave me a review when I least expected it and brought me back to this story (: I definitely want to know what you guys think about this chapter (: Thanks for reading


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